s 

University  o/  California  •  Berkeley 

Bequest      of 
LOUISIANA    SCOTT    SHUMAN 


OLIVE     OATMAN. 


CAPTIVITY 


OATIAN    GIRLS 


iii  0f  f  if* 


AMONG   THE 


APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS. 


CONTAINING 

AN  INTERESTING  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  MAS3ACUE  OF  THE  OATMAN  FAMILY,  BY  TIIH 
APACHE  INDIANA,  IN  1851;  THE  NARROW  ESCAPE  OF  LORENZO  D.  OATMAN; 
THE  CAPTURE  OF  OLIVE  A.    AND  MARY  A.   OATMAN;  THE  DEATH,  BY 
STARVATION.  OK  THK  LATTER;   TUB   FIVE   YEARS1  SUFFERING  AND 
CAPTIVITY  OF  OLIVE  A.  OATMAN;  ALSO,  HER  SINGULAR  RECAP 
TURE  IN  1S56;  AS  GIVEN   BY  LORENZO  D.  AND  OLIVE  A. 
OATMAN,  THE  ONLY  SURVIVING  MEMBERS  OF  THE 
FAMILY,  TO  THE  AUTHOR, 


E.    B.    STRATTON. 
V 


TWENTIETH    THOUSAND. 


PUBLISHED    FOE    THE    AUTHOR, 

BY    CARL-TON   &    PORTER,    200   MULBERRY-STREET. 
POR  SALE  BY  INGRAM   &-  BRAGG,   67  SUPERIOR-ST.,   CLEVELAND,  O. 

1858. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1857,  by 
LORENZO    E>.    OATMAN, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Northern  District  of  the 
State  of  California. 


FT 


S°l 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION. 


DURING  the  year  1851  news  reached  California, 
that  in  the  spring  of  that  year  a  family  by  the  name 
of  OATMAN,  while  endeavoring  to  reach  California  by 
the  old  Santa  Fe  route,  had  met  with  a  most  melan 
choly  and  terrible  fate,  about  seventy  miles  from 
Fort  Yuma.  That  while  struggling  with  every  diffi 
culty  imaginable,  such  as  jaded  teams,  exhaustion  of 
their  stores  of  provisions,  in  a  hostile  and  barren 
region,  alone  and  unattended,  they  were  brutally 
set  upon  by  a  horde  of  Apache  savages ;  that  seven 
of  the  nine  persons  composing  their  family  were 
murdered,  and  that  two  of  the  smaller  girls  were 
taken  into  captivity. 

One  of  the  number,  LORENZO  D.  OATMAN,  a  boy 
about  fourteen,  who  was  knocked  down  and  left  for 
dead,  afterward  escaped,  but  with  severe  wounds  and 
serious  injury. 

But  of  the  girls,  MARY  ANN  and  OLIVE  ANN,  noth 
ing  had  since  been  heard,  up  to  last  March.  By  a 
singular  and  mysteriously  providential  train  of  cir 
cumstances,  it  was  ascertained  at'  that  time,  by  per 
sons  living  at  Fort  Yuma,  that  one  of  these  girls  was 
then  living  among  the  Mohave  tribe,  about  four  hun 
dred  miles  from  the  fort.  A  ransom  was  offered  for 


. 

6  PREFACE    TO    THE    FIKST    EDITION. 

her  by  the  ever-to-be-remembered  and  generous  Mr. 
GRINELL,  then  a  mechanic  at  the  fort ;  and  through 
the  agency  and  tact  of  a  Yuma  Indian,  she  was  pur 
chased  and  restored  to  civilized  life,  to  her  brother 
and  friends.  The  younger  of  the  girls,  MARY  ANN, 
died  of  starvation  in  1852. 

It  is  of  the  massacre  of  this  family,  the  escape  of 
LORENZO,  and  the  captivity  of  the  two  girls,  that  the 
following  pages  treat. 

A  few  months  since  the  author  of  this  book  was 
requested  by  the  afflicted  brother  and  son,  who  barely 
escaped  with  life,  but  not  without  much  suffering,  to 
write  the  past  history  of  the  family;  especially  to 
give  a  full  and  particular  account  of  the  dreadful 
and  barbarous  scenes  of  the  captivity  endured  by  his 
sisters.  This  I  have  tried  to  do.  The  facts  and  inci 
dents  have  been  received  from  the  brother  and  sister, 
now  living. 

These  pages  have  been  penned  under  the  convic 
tion  that  in  these  facts,  and  in  the  sufferings  and 
horrors  that  befell  that  unfortunate  family,  there  is 
sufficient  of  interest,  though  of  a  melancholy  charac 
ter,  to  insure  an  attentive  and  interested  perusal  by 
every  one  into  whose  hands,  and  under  whose  eye 
this  book  may  fall.  Though,  so  far  as  book-making 
is  concerned,  there  has  been  brought  to  this  task  no 
experience  or  fame  upon  which  to  base  an  expecta 
tion  of  its  popularity,  yet  the  writer  has  sought  to 
adapt  the  style  to  the  character  of  the  narrative,  and  in 
a  simple,  plain,  comprehensive  manner  to  give  to  the 
reader  facts,  as  they  have  been  received  from  those 
of  whose  sad  experiences  in  adversity  these  pages  give 
a  faithful  delineation.  In  doing  this  he  has  sought 
plainness,  brevity,  and  an  unadorned  style,  deem- 


PREFACE   TO    THE    FIRST   EDITION.  7 

ing  these  tlie  only  excellences  that  could  be  appro 
priately  adopted  for  such  a  narrative;  the  only 
ones  that  he  expects  will  be  awarded.  It  would  be 
but  a  playing  with  sober,  solemn,  and  terrible  re 
ality  to  put  the  tinselings  of  romance  about  a  narra 
tive  of  this  kind.  The  intrinsic  interest  of  the  subject- 
matter  here  thrown  together,  must  have  the  credit 
of  any  circulation  that  shall  be  given  to  the  book. 
Upon  this  I  am  willing  to  rely;  and  that  it  will  be 
sufficient  to  procure  a  wide  and  general  perusal,  re 
munerating  and  exciting,  I  have  the  fullest  confi 
dence.  As  for  criticisms,  while  there  will,  no  doubt, 
be  found  occasions  for  them,  they  are  neither  coveted 
nor  dreaded.  All  that  is  asked  is,  that  the  reader 
will  avail  himself  of  the  facts,  and  dismiss,  as  far  as 
he  can,  the  garb  they  wear,  for  it  was  not  woven  by 
one  who  has  ever  possessed  a  desire  to  become  expe 
rienced  or  skilled  in  that  ringing,  empty  style  which 
can  only  charm  for  the  moment,  and  the  necessity  for 
which  is  never  felt  but  when  real  matter  and  thought 
are  absent. 

That  all,  or  any  considerable  portion,  of  the  distress, 
mental  and  physical,  that  befell  that  unfortunate 
family,  the  living  as  well  as  dead,  can  be  written  or 
spoken,  it  would  be  idle  to  claim.  The  desolation 
and  privation  to  which  little  MARY  ANN  was  con 
signed  while  yet  but  seven  years  old ;  the  abuse,  the 
anguish,  the  suffering  that  rested  upon  the  nearly 
two  years'  captivity  through  which  she  passed  to  an 
untimely  grave ;  the  unutterable  anguish  that  shroud 
ed  with  the  darkness  of  despair  five  years  of  her  older 
sister ;  the  six  years  of  perpetual  tossing  from  tran 
sient  hope  to  tormenting  fears,  and  during  which 
unceasing  toil  and  endeavor  was  endured  by  the  elder 


8  PEEFACE    TO    THE    FIRST    EDITION. 

brother,  who  knew  at  that  time,  and  has  ever  since 
known,  that  two  of  his  sisters  were  taken  into  captiv 
ity  by  the  Indians ;  these,  all  these  are  realities  that 
are  and  must  forever  remain  unwritten.  We  would 
not,  if  we  could,  give  to  these  pages  the  power  to 
lead  the  reader  into  all  .the  paths  of  torture  and  woe 
through  which  the  last  five  years  have  dragged  that 
brother  and  sister,  who  yet  live,  and  who,  from  hearts 
disciplined  in  affliction,  have  herein  dictated  all  of 
what  they  have  felt  that  can  be  transferred  to  the 
type.  We  would  not,  if  we  could,  recall  or  hold  up  to 
the  reader  the  weight  of  parental  solicitude  or  heart- 
yearnings  for  their  dear  family  that  crowded  upon 
the  last  few  moments  of  reason  allowed  to  those  fond 
parents,  while  in  the  power  and  under  the  war-clubs 
of  their  Apache  murderers.  The  heart's  deepest  an 
guish,  and  its  profoundest  emotions  have  no  language. 
There  is  no  color  so  deep  that  pen  dipped  therein 
can  portray  the  reality.  If  what  may  be  here  found 
written  of  these  unspoken  woes  shall  only  lead  the 
favored  subjects  of  constant  good  fortune  to  appre 
ciate  their  exempted  allotment,  and  create  in  their 
hearts  a  more  earnest  and  practical  sympathy  for 
those  who  tread  the  damp,  uncheered  paths  of  suffer 
ing  and  woe,  then  the  moral  and  social  use  prayed 
for  and  intended  in  these  pages  will  be  secured. 
YREKA,  185T.  K.  B.  STRATTON. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


SINCE  issuing  the  first  edition  of  the  "  CAPTIVITY  OF 
THE  OATMAN  GIRLS,"  which  obtained  a  rapid  and 
quick  sale,  the  author  has  been  in  the  northern  part 
of  the  state,  busy  with  engagements  made  previous 
to  its  publication,  and  which  he  considered  he  had 
ample  time  to  meet,  and  return  before  another  edition 
would  be  called  for,  if  at  all.  But  in  this  he  was  mis 
taken.  Only  two  weeks  had  elapsed  before  orders 
were  in  the  city  for  books,  that  could  not  be  filled ; 
and  that  but  a  few  days  after  the  whole  edition  was 
bound.  The  first  five  thousand  was  put  out  as  an  ex 
periment,  and  with  considerable  abridgment  from 
the  original  manuscript  as  at  first  prepared.  Con 
siderable  matter  referring  to  the  customs  of  the  In 
dians,  and  the  geography  and  character  of  the  coun 
try,  was  left  out  to  avoid  the  expense  of  publishing. 
Could  we  have  known  that  the  first  edition  would 
have  been  exhausted  so  soon,  this  omitted  matter 
might  have  been  re-prepared  and  put  into  this  edi 
tion,  but  the  last  books  were  sold  when  the  author 


10  PEEFACE   TO    THE    SECOND    EDITION. 

was  five  hundred  miles  from  his  present  home,  and 
on  returning  it  was  thought  best  to  hurry  this  edition 
through  the  press,  to  meet  orders  already  on  hand. 
We  trust  the  reader  will  find  most,  if  not  all,  of  the 
objectionable  portions  of  the  first  edition  expunged 
from  this;  besides  the  insertion  in  their  proper  places 
of  some  additions  that  were,  without  intention,  left 
out  of  the  former  one.  He  will  also  find  this  printed 
upon  superior  paper  and  type;  and  in  many  ways 
improved  in  its  appearance. 

We  must  remind  the  reader,  that  in  preparing  a 
work  like  the  present  there  is  an  utter  impropriety  in 
resorting  to  any  other  than  the  plainest  matter-of-fact 
style.  This  book  is  not  a  romance.  It  is  not  depend 
ent  upon  -an  'exorbitant  fictitiousness  of  expression 
for  enlisting  the  attention  or  interest  of  the  sober 
reader.  The  scene  is  a  reality.  The  heroes  of  the 
tale  are  living.  Let  those,  if  any  there  are,  to 
whom  reality  is  a  serious  obstacle  to  engaged  and 
sustained  attention  and  interest,  and  whose  morbidly 
created  taste,  has  given  a  settled  disrelish  for  marvels 
in  the  facts,  while  it  unceasingly  clamors  for  miracles 
of  the  fancy ;  to  -whom  plain  things,  said  in  a  plain 
way,  have  no  attraction,  whose  reading  heaven  is  a 
mountain  of  epithet  on  flashing  epithet  piled — let 
such  lay  aside  the  book. 

The  writer  does  not  disclaim  literary  taste.  Such 
a  taste  it  is  confidently  felt  is  not  herein  violated. 
For  its  display  these  pages  are  not  intended.  These 
remarks  are  here  penned  for  the  reason  that  in  a  few 


PEEFACE   TO    THE    SECOND    EDITION.  11 

instances,  instead  of  an  open  criticism,  founded  upon 
the  reading  of  the  book,  there  has  been  a  construing 
of  the  frank  avowel  of  the  real  intention  of  this  book, 
made  in  a  former  preface,  into  a  confession  of  a  liter 
ary  weakness  in  the  composition  of  this  work.  The 
writer  for  the  last  eleven  years  has  been  engaged  in 
public  speaking,  and  though  moving  contentedly  in 
an  humble  sphere,  is  not  without  living  testimonials 
to  his  diligence  and  fidelity,  at  least  in  application  to 
those  literary  studies  and  helps  to  his  calling  which 
were  within  his  reach.  With  a  present  consciousness 
of  many  imperfections  in  this  respect,  he  is  neverthe 
less  not  forbidden  by  a  true  modesty  to  say,  that  in  a 
laudable  ambition  to  acquire  and  command  the  pure 
English,  from  the  root  upward,  he  has  not  been 
wholly  negligent  nor  unsuccessful ;  nor  in  the  habit  of 
earnest  and  particular  observation  of  men  and  things 
has  he  been  without  his  note-book  and  open  eyes. 

During  the  years  spoken  of  he  has  seldom  appeared 
before  the  public  without  a  carefully  written  compen 
dium,  and  often  a  full  manuscript  of  the  train  of 
thought  to  be  discoursed  upon. 

But  still,  if  his  attainments  were  far  more  than  are 
here  claimed,  it  would  by  some  be  judged  a  poor  place 
to  use  them  for  the  feasting  of  the  reader  of  a  book 
of  the  nature  of  this  record  of  murder,  wailing,  cap 
tivity,  and  horrid  separations. 

The  notices  in  the  papers  referred  to  have,  no 
doubt,  grown  from  a  habit  that  prevails  to  a  great 
extent,  of  writing  a  notice  of  a  new  book  from  a  hasty 


12  PREFACE   TO   THE    SECOND    EDITION. 

glance  at  a  preface.  Hence,  he  who  can  gyrate  in  a 
brilliant  circle  of  polished  braggadocio  in  his  first 
born,  is  in  a  fair  way  to  meet  the  echo  of  his  own 
words,  and  be  "puffed!" 

But,  unpretending  as  are  these  pages,  the  author,  in 
his  own  behalf,  and  in  behalf  of  those  for  and  of 
whom  he  writes,  is  under  many  obligations  to  the 
press  of  the  State.  In  many  instances  a  careful  per 
usal  has  preceded  a  public  printed  notice  by  an  ed 
itor;  and  with  some  self-complacency  he  finds  that 
such  notices  have  been  the  most  flattering  and  have 
done  most  to  hasten  the  sale  of  these  books. 

The  author,  still  making  no  pretensions  to  a  serving 
up  of  a  repast  for  the  literary  taste,  yet  with  confi 
dence  assures  the  reader  that  he  will  find  nothing 
upon  these  pages  that  can  offend  such  a  taste. 

Let  it  be  said  further,  that  the  profits  accruing  from 
the  sale  of  this  work  are,  so  far  as  the  brother  and 
sister  are  concerned,  to  be  applied  to  those  who  need 
help.  It  was  with  borrowed  means  that  Mr.  Oatman 
published  the  first  edition,  and  it  is  to  secure  means 
to  furnish  himself  and  his  sister  with  the  advantages 
of  that  education  which  has  been  as  yet  denied, 
that  the  narrative  of  their  five  years'  privation  is 
offered  to  the  reading  public.  Certainly,  if  the  eye 
or  thought  delights  not  to  wander  upon  the  page  of 
their  sufferings,  the  heart  will  delight  to  think  of 
means  expended  for  the  purchase  of  the  book  that 
details  them. 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  1857. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  THIRD  EDITION. 


THE  second  edition  of  this  book  (six  thousand 
copies)  was  nearly  exhausted  in  the  California 
and  Oregon  trade  within  a  few  months  after 
its  publication.  Numerous  friends  and  relatives 
of  Mr.  and  Miss  Oatman,  who  had  received 
copies  of  the  work  from  friends  in  California, 
wrote  to  the  writer,  and  also  to  the  Oatmans, 
urgently  requesting  its  publication  for  circula 
tion  in  the  Atlantic  and  Western  States. 

They  had  read  the  book,  and  loaned  it  to 
neighbors  and  friends,  until  each  copy  num 
bered  a  considerable  circle  of  readers,  and  an 
almost  unanimous  opinion  had  been  expressed 
that  the  book  would  meet  with  a  large  and 
ready  sale  if  it  could  be  put  into  the  market  at 
prices  ruling  on  this  side  of  the  continent. 

In  behalf  of  those  for  whose  special  benefit 
the  book  is  published,  the  writer  can  but  feel 
grateful  for  the  large  sales  that  in  a  few  weeks 


14  PKEFACE   TO    THE   TIIIED    EDITION. 

were  effected  in  California.  Eleven  thousand 
were  sold  there  in  a  short  time,  and  the  owner 
of  the  book  has  deeply  regretted  that  it  was 
not  stereotyped  at  the  first. 

Recently,  to  meet  demands  for  the  book 
already  existing,  especially  in  some  of  the 
Western  States,  where  the  Oatman  family 
were  well  known,  it  was  resolved  to  publish 
the  book  in  New- York,  in  an  improved  style, 
and  with  the  addition  of  some  incidents  that 
were  prepared  for  the  California  issue,  but 
omitted  from  the  necessity  of  the  case. 

The  reader  will  find  the  book  much  im 
proved  in  its  intrinsic  interest  by  the  addition 
of  these  geographical,  traditional,  and  historic 
items.  The  matter  added  is  chiefly  of  the 
peculiar  traditions  and  superstitions  of  the 
tribes  who  were  the  captors  and  possessors 
of  Miss  Oatman.  Three  new  illustrations  are 
also  added,  and  the  old  ones  newly  drawn  and 
engraved.  Every  plate  has  been  enlarged,  and 
the  work  done  in  a  much  improved  and  more 
perfect  style. 

The  reader  will  find  this  book  to  be  a  record 
of  fa6ts ;  and  these  are  of  the  most  thrilling, 
some  of  them  of  the  most  horrid  nature.  Of 
all  the  records  of  Indian  captivities  we  fed 


PKEFACE    TO    THE    THIRD    EDITION.  15 

confident  none  have  possessed  more  interest 
than  this.  Numerous  have  been  the  testi 
monies  from  California  readers  that  it  exceeds 
any  of  kindred  tales  that  have  preceded  it. 
The  Oatman  family  were  well  and  favorably 
known  in  portions  of  Illinois  and  Pennsylvania, 
and  a  large  circle  of  acquaintances  are  waiting, 
with  much  anxiety,  the  issue  from  the  press 
of  this  narrative  of  the  tragical  allotment  that 
they  met  after  starting  for  the  Colorado  in 
1850.  Seven  of  their  number  have  fallen  by 
the  cruelties  of  the  Indian ;  two,  a  brother 
and  sister,  are  now  in  this  city. 

There  are  sketches  and  delineations  in  this 
volume  touching  the  region  lying  to  the  West 
and  Southwest,  as  also  of  the  large  aboriginal 
tribes  that  have  so  long  held  exclusive  posses 
sion  there,  which,  in  these  times  of  the  un 
paralleled  westward-pushing  propensities  of 
our  people,  are  clothed  with  new  and  startling 
interest  day  by  day. 

In  the  purchase  of  this  book  the  reader  will 
add  to  his  private  or  family  library  a  volume 
whose  chief  attraction  will  not  be  merely  in 
the  detail  of  horrors,  of  suffering,  of  cruel  cap 
tivity,  which  it  brings  to  him;  but  one  which 
his  children  will  find  valuable  for  reference  in 


16  PEEFACE    TO    THE   THIED    EDITION. 

the  years  they  may  live  to  see,  and  which  are  to 
be  crowded,  doubtless,  with  an  almost  total  revo 
lution  in  the  humanities  that  people  the  region 
lying  between  the  Pacific  and  Texas,  and  between 
Oregon  and  Mexico.  These  dark  Indian  tribes 
are  fast  wasting  before  the  rising  sun  of  our 
civilization ;  and  into  that  history  that  is  yet  to 
be  written  of  their  past,  and  of  their  destiny, 
and  of  the  many  interlacing  events  that  are  to 
contribute  to  the  fulfilling  of  the  wise  intent  of 
Providence  concerning  them  and  their  only 
dreaded  foe,  the  white  race,  facts  and  inci 
dents  contained  in  this  unpretending  volume 
will  enter  and  be  appreciated. 

E.  B.  STEATTON. 

NEW-YORK,  April,  1858. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  first  Encampment — The  Oatman  Family  —  Their  checkered  Allot 
ment  up  to  the  Time  of  their  Emigration  —  Mr.  Oatman  —  His  Ill-health 

—  Proposes  to  join  the  Party  organized  to  form  an  American  Colony 
near  the  Gulf  of  California,  in  1849  —  The  10th  of  August — Discord  in 
Camp,  owing  to  the  religious  Prejudices  of  a  few  —  First  Danger  from 
Indians  —  The  Camanche  Band  —  Two  Girls  taken  for  "  Injins  "  —  The 
Grape  Dumpling  —  Mexican  Settlements  —  The  Hunt  for  Antelopes, 
and  its  tragical  End  — Charles  refuses  to  fight  "Injins"  with  Prayer 

—  Moro  —  Scarcity  of  Provisions  —  Discontent  and  Murmurings  —  Mr. 
Lane  —  His  Death  —  Loss  of  Animals  by  the  Apaches  —  Mrs.  M.  in  the 
Well — Santa  Cruz  and  Tukjon  —  Some  of  the  Company  remain  here  — 
Pimole  —  The  only  traveling  Companions  of  the  Oatman  Family  resolve 
to  remain  —  Mr.  Oatman,  in  Perplexity,  resolves  to  proceed PAGE  21 


CHAPTEE  II. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oatman  in  Perplexity — Interview  with  Dr.  Lecount  — 
Advises  them  to  proceed  —  They  start  alone  —  Teams  begin  to  fail  — 
The  Eoads  are  bad — The  Country  rough  and  mountainous  —  Compelled 
to  carry  the  Baggage  up  the  Hills  by  Hand  —  Overtaken  by  Dr.  Lecount 
on  his  way  to  Fort  Yuma — He  promises  them  Assistance  from  the 
Fort  —  The  next  Night  the  Horses  of  Dr.  Lecount  are  stolen  by  the 
Apaches  —  He  posts  a  Card,  warning  Mr.  Oatman  of  Danger,  and  starts 
on  Foot  for  the  Fort  —  Eeach  the  Gila  Eiver — Camp  on  the  Island  late 
at  Night — Their  dreary  Situation,  and  the  Conversation  of  the  Children 
—  The  Morning  of  the  29th  of  March  —  Their  Struggle  to  ascend  the 
Hill  on  the  29th  —  Eeach  the  Summit  about  Sunset — The  Despondence 
and  Presentiments  of  Mr.  Oatman  —  Nineteen  Apaches  approach  them 
Profess  Friendliness  — The  Massacre  —  Lorenzo  left  for  dead,  but  is 
preserved  —  The  Capture  of  Olive  and  Mary  Ann 61 


18  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEE  III. 

Lorenzo  Oatman  —  Conscious  of  most  of  the  Scenes  of  the  Massacre  — 
The  next  Day  he  finds  himself  at  the  Foot  of  a  rocky  Declivity,  over 
which  he  had  fallen  —  Makes  an  Effort  to  walk  —  Starts  for  Pimole  — 
His  Feelings  and  Sufferings  —  Is  attacked  by  Wolves  —  Then  by  two 
Indians,  who  are  about  to  shoot  him  down  —  Their  subsequent  Kind 
ness  —  They  go  on  to  the  Place  of  Massacre  —  He  meets  the  Wil- 
ders  and  Kellys — -They  take  him  back  to  Pimole  —  In  about  one 
Month  gets  well,  and  starts  for  Fort  Yuma  —  Visits  the  Place  of  Mas 
sacre — His  Feelings  —  Burial  of  the  Dead — Eeflections  —  The  two 
Girls  —  Their  Thoughts  of  Home  and  Friends  —  Conduct  of  their  Cap 
tors —  Disposition  of  the  Stock — Cruelty  to  the  Girls  to  hurry  them 
on  —  Girls  resolve  not  to  proceed  —  Meet  eleven  Indians,  who  seek  to 
kill  Olive  —  Eeasons  for  —  Apaches  defend  her  —  Their  Habits  of 
Fear  for  their  own  Safety  —  Their  Eeception  at  the  Apache  Village  — 
One  Year — The  Mohaves  —  Their  second  coming  among  the  Apaches 
—  Conversation  of  Olive  and  Mary  —  Purchased  by  the  Mohaves  — 
Avowed  Eeasons  —  Their  Price  —  Danger  during  the  Debate.  .PAGE  90 


CHAPTER  1Y. 

The  Journey  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  Miles  to  the  Mohave  Valley  — 
The  Means  of  Subsistence  during  the  Time  —  The  Conduct  of  the  Mo 
haves  compared  with  the  Apaches  —  Arrive  at  the  Valley — The  Vil 
lage —  The  Chief's  Eesidence  —  Their  Joy  at  the  Eeturn  of  Topeka, 
their  Daughter — The  Greeting  of  the  new  Captives  —  One  Year  of 
Labor  and  Suffering — The  Overflowing  of  the  Colorado  —  Their  De 
pendence  upon  it — Their  Habits — Cultivation  of  the  Soil  —  Scarcity 
of  Provisions  —  Starvation  —  Mary  Ann  —  Her  Decline — Olive's  Care, 
Grief,  and  Efforts  to  save  her  Life  —  Dies  of  Famine — Many  of  the 
Indian  Children  die  —  Burial  of  Mary  Ann  —  The  Sympathy  and  Sor 
row  of  the  Chiefs  Wife  — The  great  Feast  — The  killing  of  the  two 
Captives  as  a  Sacrifice 160 


CHAPTER  Y. 

The  Mohaves  —  Their  Sports  —  An  Expedition  of  Hostility  against  tc3 
Cochopas  —  Its  Design  —  Tradition  concerning  it  —  The  Preparation  — 
Their  Custom  of  sacrificing  a  Prisoner  on  the  Death  in  War  of  one  of 
their  own  Number — The  Anxiety  of  Olive — They  depart  —  Their  Ee 
turn —  The  Fruit  of  the  Expedition  —  The  Five  Cochopa  Captives  — 
Nowereha  —  Her  Attempt  to  escape  —  Her  Eecapture  and  horrid 
Death  — The  Physicians— Evil  Spirits  — The  Mohave  Mode  of  Doctor 
ing —  The  Yumas  —  "Francisco,"  the  Yuma  Indian  —  Hopes  of  Es 
cape 216 


CONTENTS.  19 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Lorenzo  Oatman  —  His  Stay  at  Fort  Yuma  —  Goes  with  Dr.  He  wit  to 
San  Francisco  —  His  constant  Misery  on  Account  of  his  Sisters — Dark 
Thoughts  —  Cold  Sympathy  —  Goes  to  the  Mines  —  Kesolves  to  go  to 
Los  Angeles  to  learn,  if  possible,  of  his  Sisters  —  His  earnest  but  fruit 
less  Endeavors  —  The  Lesson — Eeport  brought  by  Mr.  Eoulit  of  two 
Captives  among  the  Mohaves  —  The  false  Eeport  of  Mr.  Black  —  Mr. 
Grinell  —  Petitions  the  Governor — Petitions  Congress  —  The  Eeport  of 
the  Eescue  of  Olive — Mr.  Low .  .PAGE  238 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Francisco  goes  over  the  Eiver,  and  spends  the  Night — Persuades  some 
of  the  Sub-Chiefs  to  apply  again  for  Permission  to  let  Olive  go  free  — 
His  Threats  —  The  Chiefs  return  with  him  —  Secret  Council — Anothei 
General  Council  —  Danger  of  a  Fight  among  themselves — Francisco 
has  a  Letter  from  the  Whites  —  Olive  present  —  Francisco  gains  Per 
mission  to  give  her  the  Letter — Its  Contents  —  Much  alarmed  — 
Speeches  of  the  Indians  —  Advice  to  kill  their  Captive  —  Determine  to 
release  her — Daughter  of  the  Chief  goes  with  them — Their  Journey  — 
At  Fort  Yuma...  ..  251 


PAGE 

POETEATT  OF  OLIVE  OATMAN 2 

MAP 20 

FIRST  NIGHT'S  ENCAMPMENT 24 

THE  MASSACRE Vide    85 

LORENZO  RETURNING  TO  THE  PLACE  OF  MASSACRE 99 

LORENZO  ATTACKED  BY  COYOTES  AND  WOLVES 102 

LORENZO  RESCUED  BY  FRIENDLY  INDIANS 105 

THE  CAPTIVES  AT  THE  INDIAN  CAMP-FIRE 119 

ATTEMPT  TO  SHOOT  OLIVE  AND  MARY  ANN 129 

EECEPTION  OF  THE  TWO  GIRLS  AT  THE  APACHE  VILLAGE 133 

INDIAN  SKULKING  TO  HEAR  THE  CONVERSATION  OF  THE  GIRLS 155 

DEATH  OF  MARY  ANN  AT  THE  INDIAN  CAMP 195 

HORRID  DEATH  OF  THE  INDIAN  CAPTIVE 229 

OLIVE  AT  THE  INDIAN  COUNCIL 258 

ARRIVAL  OF  OLIVE  AT  FORT  YUMA 273 

PORTRAIT  OF  LORENZO  OATMAN Vide  278 

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CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS. 


CHAPTEK  1. 

The  first  Encampment— The  Oatman  Family  — Their  checkered  Allott- 
ment  up  to  the  Time  of  their  Emigration  —  Mr.  Oatman  —  His  Ill-health 

—  Proposes  to  join  the  Party  organized  to  form  an  American  Colony 
near  the  Gulf  of  California,  in  1849  — The  10th  of  August  —  Discord  in 
Camp,  owing  to  the  religious  Prejudices  of  a  few  —  First  Danger  from 
Indians  —  The  Camanche  Band— Two  Girls  taken  for  "  Injins  "  —  The 
Grape  Dumpling  —  Mexican  Settlements  —  The  Hunt  for  Antelopes, 
and  its  tragical  End  —  Charles  refuses  to  fight  "Injins"  with  Prayer 

—  Moro  —  Scarcity  of  Provisions  —  Discontent  and  Murmurings  —  Mr. 
Lane  —  His  Death  —  Loss  of  Animals  by  the  Apaches  —  Mrs.  M.  in  the 
Well  —  Santa  Cruz  and  Tukjon  —  Some  of  the  Company  remain  here  — 
Pirnole  —  The  only  traveling  Companions  of  the  Oatman  Family  resolve 
to  remain — Mr.  Oatman,  in  Perplexity,  resolves  to  proceed. 

THE  9th  of  August,  1850,  was  a  lovely  day.  The 
sun  had  looked  upon  the  beautiful  plains  surround 
ing  Independence,  Missouri,  with  a  full,  unclouded 
face,  for  thirteen  hours  of  that  day ;  when,  standing 
about  four  miles  south  of  westward  from  the  throb 
bing  city  of  Independence,  alive  with  the  influx  and 
efflux  of  emigrant  men  and  women,  the  reader,  could 
he  have  occupied  that  stand,  might  have  seen,  about 
one  half  hour  before  sunset,  an  emigrant  train  slowly 


22       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

approaching  him  from  the  city.  This  train  consisted 
of  about  twenty  wagons,  a  band  of  emigrant  cattle, 
and  about  fifty  souls,  men,  women,  and  children. 
Attended  by  the  music  of  lowing  cattle,  and  the 
chatter  of  happy  children,  it  was  slowly  traversing 
a  few  miles,  at  this  late  hour  of  the  day,  to  seek  a 
place  of  sufficient  seclusion  to  enable  them  to  hold 
the  first  and  preparatory  night's  camp  away  from  the 
bustle  and  confusion  of  the  town. 

Just  as  the  sun  was  gladdening  the  clear  west,  and 
throwing  its  golden  farewells  upon  the  innumerable 
peaks  that  stretched  into  a  forest  of  mountains  gradu 
ally  rising  until  they  seemed  to  lean  against  the  sun- 
clad  shoulders  of  the  Rocky  Range,  imparadising  the 
whole  plain  and  mountain  country  in  its  radiant  em 
brace,  the  shrill  horn  of  the  leader  and  captain  sud 
denly  pealed  through  the  moving  village,  a  circle 
was  formed,  and  the  heads  of  the  several  families 
were  in  presence  of  the  commander,  waiting  orders 
for  the  camping  arrangements  for  the  night. 

Soon  teams  were  detached  from  the  wagons,  and 
with  the  cattle  (being  driven  for  commencement  in 
a  new  country)  were  turned  forth  upon  the  grass. 
Rich  and  abundant  pasturage  was  stretching  from 
the  place  of  their  halt  westward,  seemingly  until  it 
bordered  against  the  foot-hills  of  the  Indian  territory 
in  the  distance. 

Among  the  fifty  souls  that  composed  that  emigrant 
band,  some  were  total  strangers.  Independence  had 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.  23 

been  selected  as  the  gathering-place  of  all  who  might 
heed  a  call  that  had  been  published  and  circulated 
for  months,  beating  up  for  volunteers  to  an  emigrant 
company  about  seeking  a  home  in  the  Southwest. 
It  was  intended,  as  the  object  and  destination  of  this 
company,  to  establish  an  American  colony  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Gulf  of  California.  Inducements  had 
been  held  out,  that  if  the  region  lying  about  the 
juncture  of  the  Colorado  and  Gila  Rivers  could  thus 
be  colonized,  every  facility  should  be  guaranteed  the 
colonists  for  making  to  themselves  a  comfortable  and 
luxuriant  home. 

After  a  frugal  meal,  served  throughout  the  various 
divisions  of  the  camp,  the  evening  of  the  9th  was 
spent  in  perfecting  regulations  for  the  long  and  dan 
gerous  trip,  and  in  the  forming  of  acquaintances,  and 
the  interchange  of  salutations  and  gratulations. 

Little  groups,  now  larger  and  now  smaller,  by  the 
constant  moving  to  and  fro  of  members  of  the  camp, 
had  chatted  the  evening  up  to  a  seasonable  bedtime. 
Then,  at  the  call  of  the  "  crier,"  all  were  collected 
around  one  camp-fire  for  the  observance  of  public 
worship,  which  was  conducted  by  a  clergyman  pres 
ent.  Into  that  hour  of  earnest  worship  were  crowded 
memories  of  the  home-land  and  friends  now  forever 
abandoned  for  a  settlement  in  the  "far-off  South 
west."  There  flowed  and  mingled  the  tear  of  regret 
and  of  hope ;  there  and  then  rose  the  earnest  prayer 
for  Providential  guidance;  and  at  that  hour  there 


24       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIIILS  AMONG 

swelled  out  upon  the  soft,  clear  air  of  as  lovely  an 
evening  as  ever  threw  its  star-lit  curtain  upon  hill 
and  vale,  the  song  of  praise  and  the  shout  of  triumph, 
not  alone  in  the  prospect  of  a  home  by  the  Colorado 
of  the  South,  but  of  glad  exultation  in  the  prospect 


FIE8T   NIGHT'S    ENCAMPMENT. 

of  a  home  hard  by  the  "  Kiver  of  Life,"  which  rose  to 
view  as  the  final  termination  of  the  journeyings  and 
toil  incident  to  mortality's  pilgrimage. 

Now  the  hush  of  sleep's  wonted  hour  has  stolen 
slowly   over  the   entire   encampment,   and   nothing 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOIIAVE  INDIANS.  25 

without  indicates  remaining  life,  save  the  occasional 
growl  of  the  ever-faithful  watch-dog,  or  the  outburst 
of  some  infant  member  of  that  villa-camp,  wearied 
and  worn,  and  overtasked  by  the  hurry  and  bustle  of 
the  previous  day. 

Reader,  we  now  wish  you  to  go  with  us  into  that 
camp,  and  receive  an  introduction  to  an  interestin-g 
family  consisting  of  father,  mother,  and  seven  chil 
dren  ;  the  oldest  of  this  juvenile  group  a  girl  of  six 
teen,  the  youngest  a  bright  little  boy  of  one  year. 
Silence  is  here,  but  to  that  household  sleep  has  no 
welcome.  The  giant  undertaking  upon  which  they 
are  now  fairly  launched  is  so  freighted  with  interest 
to  themselves  and  their  little  domestic  kingdom,  as  to 
leave  no  hour  during  the  long  night  for  the  senses  to 
yield  to  the  soft  dominion  of  sleep.  Besides,  this 
journey  now  before  them  has  been  preceded  by 
lesser  ones,  and  these  had  been  so  frequent  and  of 
such  trivial  result  as  that  vanity  seemed  written 
upon  all  the  deep  and  checkered  past,  with  its  world 
of  toil  and  journeyings.  In  a  subdued  whisper,  but 
with  speaking  countenances  and  sparkling  eyes,  these 
parents  are  dwelling  upon  this  many-colored  by-gone. 

Mr.  Oatman  is  a  medium-sized  man,  about  five 
feet  in  height,  black  hair,  with  a  round  face,  and 
yet  in  the  very  prime  of  life.  Forty-one  winters 
had  scarcely  been  able  to  plow  the  first  furrow 
of  age  upon  his  manly  cheek.  Vigorous,  healthy, 
and  of  a  jovial  turn  of  mind,  predisposed  to  look 


26       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

only  upon  the  bright  side  of  everything,  he  was 
happy ;  of  a  sanguine  temperament,  he  was  given 
to  but  little  fear,  and  seemed  ever  drinking  from 
the  fresh  fountains  of  a  living  buoyant  hope.  From 
his  boyhood  he  had  been  of  a  restless,  roving  dispo 
sition,  fond  of  novelty,  and  anxious  that  nothing 
within  all  the  circuit  of  habitable  earth  should  be 
left  out  of  the  field  of  his  ever  curious  and  prying 
vision. 

He  had  been  favored  with  rare  educational  ad 
vantages  during  his  boyhood,  in  Western  ISTew-York. 
These  advantages  he  had  improved  with  a  promising 
vigilance  until  about  nineteen  years  of  age.  He 
then  became  anxious  to  see,  and  try  his  fortune  in, 
the  then  far  away  West.  The  thought  of  emigrating 
had  not  been  long  cogitated  by  his  quick  and  ready 
mind,  ere  he  came  to  a  firm  resolution  to  plant  his 
feet  upon  one  of  the  wild  prairies  of  Illinois. 

He  was  now  of  age,  and  his  father  and  mother, 
Lyman  and  Lucy  Oatman,  had  spent  scarcely  one 
year  keeping  hotel  in  Laharpe,  Illinois,  ere  they 
were  joined  by  their  son  Royse. 

Soon  after  going  to  Illinois,  Royse  was  joined  in 
marriage  to  Miss  Mary  Ann  Sperry,  of  Laharpe. 
Miss  Sperry  was  an  intelligent  girl  of  about  eighteen, 
and,  by  nature  and  educational  advantages,  abund 
antly  qualified  to  make  her  husband  happy  and  his 
home  an  attraction.  She  was  sedate,  confiding,  and 
affectionate,  and  in  social  accomplishments  placed, 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOIIAVE  INDIANS.  27 

by  her  peculiar  advantages,  above  most  of  those 
around  her.  From  childhood  she  had  been  the  pride 
of  fond  and  wealthy  parents ;  and  it  was  their  boast 
that  she  had  never  merited  a  rebuke  for  any  wrong. 
The  first  two  years  of  this  happy  couple  was  spent  on 
a  farm  near  Laharpe.  During  this  time  some  little 
means  had  been  accumulated  by  an  honest  industry 
and  economy,  and  these  means  Mr.  Oatman  collected, 
and  with  them  embarked  in  mercantile  business  in 
Laharpe. 

Honesty,  industry,  and  a  number  of  years  of  thor 
ough  business  application,  won  for  him  the  esteem 
of  those  around  him,  procured  a  comfortable  home 
for  his  family,  and  placed  him  in  possession  of  a 
handsome  fortune,  with  every  arrangement  for  its 
rapid  increase.  At  that  time  the  country  was  rap 
idly  filling  up;  farmers  were  becoming  rich,  and 
substantial  improvements  were  taking  the  place  of 
temporary  modes  of  living  which  had  prevailed  as  yet. 

Paper  money  became  plenty,  the  products  of  the 
soil  had  found  a  ready  and  remunerative  market,  and 
many  were  induced  to  invest  beyond  their  means  in 
real  estate  improvements. 

The  banks  chartered  about  the  years  1832  and 
1840,  had  issued  bills  beyond  their  charters,  pre 
suming  upon  the  continued  rapid  growth  of  the 
country  to  keep  themselves  above  disaster.  But 
business,  especially  in  times  of  speculation,  like 
material  substance,  is  of  a  gravitating  tendency,  and 


28      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

without  a  basis  soon  falls.  A  severe  reverse  in 
the  tendency  of  the  markets  spread  rapidly  over 
the  entire  West  during  the  year  1842.  Prices  of 
produce  fell  to  a  low  figure.  An  abundance  had 
been  raised,  and  the  market  was  glutted.  Debts 
of  long  standing  became  due,  and  the  demand  for 
their  payment  became  more  imperative,  as  the  ina 
bility  of  creditors  became  more  and  more  apparent 
and  appalling.  The  merchant  found  his  store  empty 
his  goods  having  been  credited  to  parties  whose  sol^ 
reliance  was  the  usual  ready  market  for  the  products 
of  their  soil. 

Thus,  dispossessed  of  goods  and  destitute  of  money, 
the  trading  portion  of  community  were  thrown  into 
a  panic,  and  business  of  all  kinds  came  to  a  stand 
still.  The  producing  classes  were  straitened;  their 
grain  would  not  meet  current  expenses,  for  it  had  no 
market  value;  and  with  many  of  them  mortgages, 
bearing  high  interest,  were  preying  like  vultures 
upon  their  already  declining  realities. 

Specie  was  scarce.  Bills  were  returned  to  the 
banks,  and  while  a  great  many  of  them  were  yet 
out  the  specie  was  exhausted,  and  a  general  crash 
came  upon  the  banks,  while  the  country  was  yet 
flooded  with  what  was  appropriately  termed  "the 
wild-cat  money."  The  day  of  reckoning  to  these 
spurious  money  fountains  suddenly  weighed  them 
in  the  balances  and  found  them  wanting.  Mr.  Oat- 
man  had  collected  in  a  large  amount  of  this  paper 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOIIAVE  INDIANS.  29 

currency,  and  was  about  to  go  South  to  replenish  his 
mercantile  establishment,  when  lo !  the  banks  began 
to  fail,  and  in  a  few  weeks  he  found  himself  sunk 
by  the  weight  of  several  thousands  into  utter  insolv 
ency. 

He  was  disappointed  but  not  disheartened.  To 
him  a  reverse  was  the  watchword  for  a  renewal  of 
energy.  For  two  or  three  years  he  had  been  in  cor 
respondence  with  relatives  residing  in  Cumberland 
Valley,  Pennsylvania,  who  had  been  constantly  hold 
ing  up  that  section  of  country  as  one  of  the  most  in 
viting  and  desirable  for  new  settlers. 

In  a  few  weeks  he  had  disposed  of  the  fragments 
of  a  suddenly  shattered  fortune  to  the  greatest  possi 
ble  advantage  to  his  creditors,  and  resolved  upon  an 
immediate  removal  to  that  valley.  In  two  months 
preparations  were  made,  and  in  three  months,  with 
a  family  of  five  children,  he  arrived  among  his  friends 
in  Cumberland  Valley,  with  a  view  of  making  that  a 
permanent  settlement. 

True  to  the  domineering  traits  of  his  character,  he 
was  still  resolute  and  undaunted.  His  wife  was  the 
same  trusting,  cheerful  companion  as  when  the  nup 
tial  vow  was  plighted,  and  the  sun  of  prosperity  shone 
full  upon  and  crowned  their  mutual  toils.  Retired, 
patient,  and  persevering,  she  was  a  faithful  wife  and 
a  fond  mother,  in  whom  centered  deservingly  the 
love  of  a  growing  and  interesting  juvenile  group. 
She  became  more  and  more  endeared  to  her  fortune- 


30       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

taunted  husband  as  adverse  vicissitudes  had  devel 
oped  her  real  worth,  and  her  full  competence  to 
brave  and  profit  by  the  stern  battles  of  life. 

She  had  seen  her  husband  when  prospered,  and 
flattered  by  those  whose  attachments  had  taken  root 
in  worldly  considerations  only ;  she  had  stood  by 
him  also  when  the  chilling  gusts  of  temporary  advers 
ity  had  blown  the  cold  damps  of  cruel  reserve  and 
fiendish  suspicion  about  his  name  and  character ;  and 

"  "When  envy's  sneer  would  coldly  blight  his  name, 
And  busy  tongues  were  sporting  with  his  fame, 
She  solved  each  doubt,  and  clear'd  each  mist  away, 
And  made  him  radiant  in  the  face  of  day." 

They  had  spent  but  a  few  months  in  Pennsylvania, 
the  place  of  their  anticipated  abode  for  life,  ere  Mr. 
Oatman  found  it,  to  him,  an  unfit  and  unsuitable 
place,  as  also  an  unpromising  region  in  which  to  rear 
a  family.  He  sighed  again  for  the  wride,  wild  prairie 
lands  of  the  West.  He  began  to  regret  that  a  finan 
cial  reversion  should  have  been  allowed  so  soon  to 
drive  him  from  a  country  where  he  had  been  accus 
tomed  to  behold  the  elements  and  foundation  of  a 
glorious  and  prosperous  future ;  and  where  those  very 
religious  and  educational  advantages — to  him  the 
indispensable  accompaniments  of  social  progress — 
were  already  beginning  to  shoot  forth  in  all  the  vigor 
and  promise  of  a  healthful  and  undaunted  growth. 
He  was  not  of  that  class  who  can  persist  in  an  enter- 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.  31 

prise  merely  from  pride  that  is  so  weak  as  to  scorn 
the  confession  of  a  weakness ;  though  he  was  slow  to 
change  his  purpose,  only  as  a  good  reason  might  dis 
cover  itself  under  the  light  and  teachings  of  multi 
plying  circumstances  around  him. 

He  resolved  to  retrace  his  steps,  and  again  to  try 
his  hands  and  skill  upon  some  new  and  unbroken 
portion  of  the  State  where  he  had  already  made  and 
lost.  Early  in  1845  these  parents,  with  a  family  of 
five  children,  destitute  but  courageous,  landed  in 
Chicago.  There,  for  one  year,  they  supported  with 
toil  of  head  and  hand  (the  father  was  an  experienced 
school  teacher)  their  growing  family. 

In  the  spring  of  1846  there  might  have  been  seen 
standing,  at  about  five  miles  from  Fulton,  111.,  and 
about  fifteen  from  New- Albany,  alone  in  the  prairie, 
a  temporary,  rude  cabin.  Miles  of  unimproved  land 
stretched  away  on  either  side,  save  a  small  spot, 
rudely  fenced,  near  the  cabin,  as  the  commence 
ment  of  a  home.  At  the  door  of  this  tent,  in  April 
of  that  year,  and  about  sunset,  a  wagon  drawn  by 
oxen,  and  driven  by  the  father  of  a  family,  a  man 
about  thirty-seven,  and  his  son,  a  lad  about  ten  years, 
halted.  That  wagon  contained  a  mother — a  woman 
of  thirty-three  years — toil-worn  but  contented,  with 
five  of  her  children.  The  oldest  son,  Lorenzo,  who 
had  been  plodding  on  at  the  father's  side,  dragged 
his  weary  liinbs  up  to  the  cabin  door,  and  begged 
admittance  for  the  night.  This  was  readily  and 


32       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIKLS  AMONG 

hospitably  granted.  Soon  the  family  were  trans 
ported  from  the  movable  to  the  staid  habitation. 
Here  they  rested  their  stomachs  upon  "  Johnny 
cake"  and  Irish  potatoes,  and  their  weary,  complain 
ing  bodies  upon  the  soft  side  of  a  white  oak  board 
for  the  night. 

Twenty-four  hours  had  not  passed  ere  the  father 
had  staked  out  a  "  claim ;"  a  tent  had  been  erected ; 
the  cattle  turned  forth,  were  grazing  upon  the  hitherto 
untrodden  prairie  land,  and  preparations  made  and 
measures  put  into  vigorous  operation  for  spring  sow 
ing.  Here,  with  that  same  elasticity  of  mind  and 
prudent  energy  that  had  inspired  his  earliest  efforts 
for  self-support,  Mr.  Oatman  commenced  to  provide 
himself  a  home,  and  to  surround  his  family  with  all 
the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  a  subsistence.  Be 
fore  his  energetic  and  wrell-directed  endeavors,  the 
desert  soon  began  to  blossom ;  and  beauty  arid  fruit- 
fulness  gradually  stole  upon  these  hitherto  wild  and 
useless  regions.  He  always  managed  to  provide  his 
family  with  a  plain,  frugal,  and  plenteous  support. 

Four  years  and  over  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oatman  toiled 
early  and  late,  clearing,  subduing,  and  improving. 
And  during  this  time  they  readily  and  cheerfully 
turned  their  hands  to  any  laudable  calling,  manual 
or  intellectual,  that  gave  promise  of  a  just  remunera 
tion  for  their  services.  Although  accustomed,  for 
the  most  part  of  their  united  life,  to  a  competence 
that  had  placed  them  above  the  necessity  of  menial 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.  33 

service,  yet  they  scorned  a  dependence  upon  past 
position,  as  also  that  pride  and  utter  recklessness  of 
principle  which  can  consent  to  keep  up  the  exterior 
of  opulence,  while  its  expenses  must  come  from  un 
secured  and  deceived  creditors.  They  contentedly 
adapted  themselves  to  a  manner  and  style  that  was 
intended  to  give  a  true  index  to  their  real  means  and 
resources. 

It  was  this  principle  of  noble  self-reliance,  and  un 
bending  integrity,  that  won  for  them  the  warmest 
regards  of  the  good,  and  crowned  their  checkered 
allotment  with  appreciative  esteem  wherever  their 
stay  had  been  sufficient  to  make  them  known. 

While  the  family  remained  at  this  place,  now 
called  Henly,  they  toiled  early  and  late,  at  home  or 
abroad,  as  opportunity  might  offer.  During  much 
of  this  time,  however,  Mr.  Oatman  was  laboring 
under  and  battling  with  a  serious  bodily  infirmity 
and  indisposition. 

Early  in  the  second  year  of  their  stay  at  Henly, 
while  lifting  a  stone,  in  digging  a  well  for  a  neighbor, 
he  injured  himself,  and  from  the  effects  of  that  injury 
he  never  fully  recovered. 

At  this  time  improvements  around  him  had  been 
conducted  to  a  stage  of  advancement  that  demanded 
a  strict  and  vigilant  oversight  and  guidance.  And 
though  by  these  demands,  and  his  unflagging  ambi 
tion,  he  was  impelled  to  constant,  and  at  times  to 
severe  labors,  yet  they  were  labors  for  which  he  had 


34      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

been  disabled,  and  from  which  he  should  have 
ceased.  Each  damp  or  cold  season  of  the  year,  after 
receiving  this  injury  to  his  back  and  spine,  would 
place  him  upon  a  rack  of  pain,  and  at  times  render 
life  a  torture.  The  winters,  always  severe  in  that 
section  of  the  country,  that  had  blasted  and  swept 
away  frailer  constitutions  about  him,  had  as  yet  left 
no  discernible  effects  upon  his  vigorous  physical  sys 
tem.  But  now  their  return  almost  disabled  him  for 
work,  and  kindled  anew  the  torturing  local  inflam 
mation  that  his  injury  had  brought  with  it  to  his 
system. 

He  became  convinced  that  if  he  would  live  to 
bless  and  educate  his  family,  or  would  enjoy  even 
tolerable  health,  he  must  immediately  seek  a  climate 
free  from  the  sudden  and  extreme  changes  so  common 
to  the  region  in  which  he  had  spent  the  last  few  years. 

In  the  summer  of  1849  an  effort  was  made  to  in 
duce  a  party  to  organize,  for  the  purpose  of  emigra 
tion  to  that  part  of  the  New-Mexican  Territory  lying 
about  the  mouth  of  the  Rio  Colorado  and  Gila 
Rivers.  Considerable  excitement  extended  over  the 
northern  and  western  portions  of  Illinois  concerning 
it.  There  were  a  few  men,  men  of  travel  and  inform 
ation,  who  were  well  acquainted  with  the  state  of 
the  country  lying  along  the  east  side  of  the  northern 
end  of  the  Gulf  of  California,  and  they  had  received 
the  most  flattering  inducements  to  form  there  a  col 
ony  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  people. 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIANS.          35 

Accordingly  notices  were  circulated  of  the  number 
desired  and  of  the  intention  and  destiny  of  the  under 
taking.  The  country  was  represented  as  of  a  mild, 
bland  climate,  where  the  extremes  of  a  hot  summer 
and  severe  winter  were  unknown.  Mr.  Oatman, 
after  considerable  deliberation  upon  the  state  of  his 
health,  the  necessity  for  a  change  of  climate,  the  re 
liability  of  the  information  that  had  come  from  this 
new  quarter,  and  other  circumstances  having  an  inti 
mate  connection  with  the  welfare  of  those  dependent 
upon  him,  sent  in  his  name,  as  one  who,  with  a  fam 
ily,  nine  in  all,  was  ready  to  join  the  colony ;  and 
again  he  determined  to  attempt  his  fortune  in  a  new 
land. 

He  felt  cheered  in  the  prospect  of  a  location  where 
he  might  again  enjoy  the  possibility  of  a  recovery 
of  his  health.  And  he  hoped  that  the  journey 
itself  might  aid  the  return  of  his  wonted  vigor  and 
strength. 

After  he  had  proposed  a  union  with  this  projected 
colony,  and  his  proposition  had  been  favorably  re 
ceived,  he  immediately  sold  out.  The  sum  total  of 
the  sales  of  his  earthly  possessions  amounted  to 
fifteen  hundred  dollars.  With  this  he  purchased  an 
outfit,  and  was  enabled  to  reserve  to  himself  suffi 
cient,  as  he  hoped,  to  meet  all  incidental  expenses  of 
the  tedious  trip. 

In  the  spring  of  1850,  accompanied  by  some  of  his 

neighbors,  who  had  also  thrown  their  lots  into  this 

3 


36       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIELS  AMONG 

scheme,  he  started  for  Independence,  the  place 
selected  for  the  gathering  of  the  scattered  members 
of  the  colony,  preparatory  to  a  united  travel  for  the 
point  of  destination.  Every  precaution  had  been 
taken  to  secure  unanimity  of  feeling,  purpose,  and  in 
tention  among  those  who  should  propose  to  cast  in 
their  lot  with  the  emigrating  colony.  All  were 
bound  for  the  same  place ;  all  were  inspired  by  the 
same  object ;  all  should  enter  the  band  on  an 
equality;  and  it  was  agreed  that  every  measure  of 
importance  to  the  emigrant  army,  should  be  brought 
to  the  consideration  and  consultation  of  every  mem 
ber  of  the  train. 

It  was  intended  to  form  a  new  settlement,  remote 
from  the  prejudices,  pride,  arrogance,  and  caste  that 
obtain  in  the  more  opulent  and  less  sympathizing 
portions  of  a  stern  civilization.  Many  of  the  number 
thought  they  saw  in  the  locality  selected  many  ad 
vantages  that  were  peculiar  to  it  alone.  They 
looked  upon  it  as  the  way  by  which  emigration 
would  principally  reach  this  western  gold-land,  fur 
nishing  for  the  colony  a  market  for  their  produce ; 
that  thus  remote  they  could  mold,  fashion,  and  direct 
the  education,  habits,  customs,  and  progress  of  the 
young  and  growing  colony,  after  a  model  superior  to 
that  under  which  some  of  them  had  been  discontent 
edly  raised,  and  one  that  should  receive  tincture, 
form,  and  adaptation  from  the  opening  and  multiply 
ing  necessities  of  the  experiment  in  progress. 


THE    APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.  37 

As  above  stated,  this  colony,  composed  of  more 
than  fifty  souls,  encamped  on  the  lovely  evening  of 
August  9,  1850,  about  four  miles  from  Independence. 

The  following  are  the  names  of  those  who  were  the 
most  active  in  projecting  the  movement,  and  their 
names  are  herein  given,  because  they  may  be  again 
alluded  to  in  the  following  pages ;  besides,  many  of 
them  are  now  living,  and  this  may  be  the  first 
notice  they  shall  receive  of  the  fate  of  the  unfor 
tunate  family,  the  captivity  and  sufferings  of  the  only 
two  surviving  members  of  which  are  the  themes  of 
these  pages.  Mutual  perils  and  mutual  adventures 
have  a  power  to  cement  worthy  hearts  that  is  not 
found  in  unmingled  prosperity.  And  it  has  been  the 
privilege  of  the  author  to  know,  from  personal  ac 
quaintance,  in  one  instance,  of  a  family  to  whom  the 
"  Oatman  Family  "  were  bound  by  the  tie  of  mutu 
ality  of  suffering  and  geniality  of  spirit. 

Mr.  Ira  Thompson  and  family. 

A.  W.  Lane  and  family. 

R.  and  John  Kelly  and  their  families. 

MJ.  Mutere  and  family. 

Mr.  Wilder  and  family. 

Mr.  Brinshall  and  family. 

We  have  thus  rapidly  sketched  the  outlines  of  the 
history  of  the  Oatman  family,  for  a  few  years  preced 
ing  their  departure  from  the  eastern  side  of  the  con 
tinent,  and  glanced  at  the  nature  and  cast  of  their 
allotment,  because  of  members  of  that  family  these 


38       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

pages  are  designed  mainly  to  treat.  This  remove, 
the  steps  to  which  have  been  traced  above,  proved 
their  last ;  for  though  bright,  and  full  of  promise  and 
hope,  at  the  outset,  tragedy  of  the  most  painful  and 
gloomy  character  settles  down  upon  it  at  an  early 
period,  and  with  fearfully  portentous  gloom,  thickens 
and  deepens  upon  its  every  step,  until  the  day,  so 
bright  at  dawn,  gradually  closes  in  all  the  horror  and 
desolation  of  a  night  of  plunder,  murder,  and  worse 
than  murderous  and  barbarous  captivity.  And 
though  no  pleasant  task  to  bring  this  sad  afterpart 
to  the  notice  of  the  reader,  it  is  nevertheless  a  tale 
that  rnay  be  interesting  for  him  to  ponder ;  and  in 
structive,  as  affording  matter  for  the  employment  of 
reflection,  and  instituting  a  heartier  sympathy  with 
those  upon  whose  life  the  clouds  and  pangs  of  severe 
reverses  and  misfortunes  have  rested. 

Ere  yet  twilight  had  lifted  the  deepest  shades  of 
night  from  plain  and  hill-side,  on  the  morning  of  the 
10th  of  August,  1850,  there  was  stir  and  bustle,  and 
hurrying  to  and  fro  throughout  that  camp.  As 
beautiful  a  sunrise  as  ever  mantled  the  east,  or  threw 
its  first,  purest  glories  upon  a  long  and  gladdened 
West,  found  all  things  in  order,  and  that  itinerant 
colony  arranged,  prepared,  and  in  march  for  the 
"Big  Bend  "  of  the  Arkansas  River.  Their  course  at 
first  lay  due  west,  toward  the  Indian  territory.  One 
week  passed  pleasantly  away.  Fine  weather,  vigor 
ous  teams,  social,  cheerful  chit-chat,  in  which  the 


THE   APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.          39 

evenings  were  passed  by  men,  women,  and  children, 
who  had  been  thrown  into  their  first  acquaintance 
under  circumstances  so  well  calculated  to  create 
identity  of  interest  and  aim,  all  contributed  to  the 
comfort  of  this  anxious  company  during  the  "  first 
week  upon  the  plains,"  and  to  render  the  prospect 
for  the  future  free  from  the  first  tint  of  evil  advers 
ity.  At  the  end  of  a  week,  and  when  they  had 
made  about  one  hundred  miles,  a  halt  was  called  at 
a  place  known  as  the  "  Council  Grove."  This  place 
is  on  the  old  Santa  F6  road,  and  is  well  suited  for  a 
place  of  rest,  and  for  recruiting.  Up  to  this  time 
naught  but  harmony  and  good  feeling  prevailed 
throughout  the  ranks  of  this  emigrant  company. 
While  tarrying  at  this  place,  owing  to  the  peculiari 
ties  in  the  religious  notions  and  prejudices  of  a  few 
restless  spirits,  the  first  note  of  discord  and  jarring 
element  was  introduced  among  them. 

Some  resolved  to  return,  but  the  more  sober  (and 
such  seemed  in  the  majority)  persisted  in  the  resolve 
to  accomplish  the  endeared  object  of  the  undertaking. 
Owing  to  their  wise  counsels,  and  moderate,  dignified 
management,  peace  and  quiet  returned ;  and  after  a 
tarry  of  about  'one  week's  duration,  they  were  again 
upon  their  journey.  From  Council  Grove  the  road 
bore  a  little  south  of  west,  over  a  beautiful  level 
plain,  covered  with  the  richest  pasturage ;  and  in  the 
distance  bordering  on  every  hand  against  high, 
picturesque  ranges  of  mountains,  seeming  like  so 


40      CAPTIVITY  OF  TIIE  0  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

many  huge  bine  bulwarks,  and  forming  natural 
boundaries  between  the  abodes  of  the  respective 
races,  each  claiming,  separately  and  apart,  the  one 
the  mountain,  the  other  the  vale. 

The  weather  was  beautiful ;  the  evenings,  cool  and 
invigorating,  furnishing  to  the  jaded  band  a  perfect 
elysium  for  the  recruiting  of  tired  nature,  at  the  close 
of  each  day's  sultry  and  dusty  toil.  Good  feeling 
restored,  all  causes  of  irritation  shut  out,  joyfully, 
merrily,  hopefully,  the  pilgrim  band  moved  on  to  the 
Big  Bend,  on  the  Arkansas  River.  Nothing  as  yet 
had  been  met  to  excite  fear  for  personal  safety ; 
nothing  to  darken  for  a  moment  the  cloudless  pros 
pect  that  had  inspired  and  shone  upon  their  first 
westward  movings. 

"  It  was  our  custom,"  says  Lorenzo  Oatman,  "  to 
lay  by  on  the  Sabbath,  both  to  rest  physical  nature, 
and  also,  by  proper  religious  services,  to  keep  alive  in 
our  minds  the  remembrance  of  our  obligations  to  our 
great  and  kind  Creator  and  Preserver,  and  to  remind 
ourselves  that  we  were  each  travelers  upon  that  great 
level  of  time,  to  a  bourne  from  whence  no  traveler 
returns." 

One  Saturday  night  the  tents  were  pitched  upon 
the  hither  bank  of  the  Arkansas  River.  On  the  next 
morning  Divine  service  was  conducted  in  the  usual 
manner,  and  at  the  usual  hour.  Scarcely  had  the 
service  terminated  ere  a  scene  was  presented  calcu 
lated  to  interrupt  the  general  monotony,  as  well  as 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.  41 

awaken  some  not  very  agreeable  apprehensions  for 
their  personal  safety.  A  Mr.  Mutere  was  a  short  way 
from  the  camp,  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  looking 
after  the  stock.  While  standing  and  gazing  about 
him,  the  sound  of  crude,  wild  music  broke  upon  his 
ear.  He  soon  perceived  it  proceeded  from  a  band  of 
Indians,  whom  he  espied  dancing  and  singing  in  the 
wildest  manner  in  a  grove  near  by.  They  were 
making  merry,  as  if  in  exultation  over  some  splendid 
victory.  He  soon  ascertained  that  they  were  of  the 
Camanche  tribe,  and  about  them  were  a  number  of 
very  beautiful  American  horses  and  mules.  He 
knew  them  to  be  stolen  stock,  from  the  saddle  and 
harness  marks,  yet  fresh  and  plainly  to  be  seen. 
While  Mr.  Mutere  stood  looking  at  them  his  eye 
suddenly  fell  upon  a  huge,  hideous  looking  "  buck," 
partly  concealed  behind  a  tree,  out  from  which  he 
was  leveling  a  gun  at  himself.  He  sprang  into  a  run, 
much  frightened,  and  trusted  to  leg  bail  for  a  safe 
arrival  at  camp. 

At  this  the  Indian  came  out,  hallooed  to  Mutere, 
and  made  the  most  vehement  professions  of  friend 
ship,  and  of  the  absence  of  all  evil  design  toward 
him.  But  Mutere  chose  not  to,  tarry  for  any  reas 
surance  of  his  kindly  interest  in  his  welfare.  As 
soon  as  Mutere  was  in  camp,  several  Indians  appeared 
upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  hallooing,  and 
asking  the  privilege  of  coming  into  camp,  avowing 
friendliness.  After  a  little  their  request  was  granted, 


42      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAX   GIRLS  AMOXG 

and  about  a  score  of  them  came  up  near  the  camp. 
The  party  soon  had  occasion  to  mark  their  folly  in 
yielding  to  the  request  of  the  Indians,  who  were  not 
long  in  their  vicinity  ere  they  were  observed  in  secret 
council  a  little  apart,  also  at  the  same  time  bending 
their  bows  and  making  ready  their  arrows,  as  if 
upon  the  eve  of  some  malicious  intent.  "  At  this," 
says  L.  Oatman,  "  our  boys  were  instantly  to  their 
guns,  and  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  wagon, 
preparing .  them  for  the  emergence.  But  we  took 
good  care  to  so  hide  us,  as  to  let  our  motions  plainly 
appear  to  the  enemy,  that  they  might  take  warning 
from  our  courage  and  not  be  apprised  of  our  fears. 
Our  real  intention  was  immediately  guessed  at,  as  we 
could  see  by  the  change  in  the  conduct  of  our  new 
enemy.  They,  by  this  time,  lowered  their  bows,  and 
their  few  guns,  and  modestly  made  a  request  for  a 
cow.  This  roused  our  resolution,  and  the  demand 
was  quickly  resisted.  We  plainly  saw  unmistakable 
signs  of  fear,  and  a  suspicion  that  they  were  standing 
a  poor  show  for  cow-beef  from  that  quarter.  Such 
was  the  first  abrupt  close  that  religious  services  had 
been  brought  to  on  our  whole  route  as  yet.  These 
evil-designing  wretches  soon  made  off,  with  more 
dispatch  evidently  than  was  agreeable.  A  few  hours 
after  they  again  appeared  upon  the  opposite  bank, 
with  about  a  score  of  fine  animals,  which  they  drove 
to  water  in  our  sight.  As  soon  as  the  stock  had 
drank,  they  raised  a  whoop,  gave  us  some  hearty 


THE   APACHE    AXD    MOHAVE    INDIANS.          43 

cheering,  and  were  away  to  the  south  at  a  tremend 
ous  speed.  On  Monday  we  crossed  the  river,  and 
toward  evening  met  a  government  train,  who  had 
been  out  to  the  fort  and  were  now  on  their  return. 
We  related  to  them  what  we  had  seen.  They  told  us 
that  they  had,  a  day  or  two  before,  come  upon  the 
remnant  of  a  government  train  who  were  on  their 
way  to  the  fort,  that  their  stock  had  been  taken  from 
them,  and  they  were  left  in  distress,  and  without 
means  of  return.  They  also  informed  us  that  during 
the  next  day  we  would  enter  upon  a  desert,  where 
for  ninety  miles  we  would  be  without  wood  and 
water.  This  information,  though  sad,  was  timely. 
We  at  once  made  all  possible  preparations  to 
traverse  this  old  '  Sahara '  of  the  Santa  Fe  road. 
But  these  preparations  as  to  water  proved  unneces 
sary,  for  while  we  were  crossing  this  desolate  and 
verdureless  waste,  the  kindly  clouds  poured  upon  us 
abundance  of  fresh  water,  and  each  day's  travel  for 
this  ninety  miles  was  as  pleasant  as  any  of  our  trip 
to  us,  though  to  the  stock  it  was  severe." 

While  at  the  camp  on  the  river  one  very  trag 
ical  ( ? )  event  occurred,  which  must  not  be  omitted. 
One  Mr.  M.  A.  M.,  Jun.,  had  stepped  down  to  the 
river  bank,  leisurely  whistling  along  his  way,  in 
quest  of  a  favorable  place  to  draw  upon  the  Arkan 
sas  for  a  pail  of  water.  Suddenly  two  small  girls, 
who  had  been  a  little  absent  from  camp,  with  aprons 
upon  their  heads,  rose  above  a  little  mound,  and 


44       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS   AMONG 

presented  themselves  to  his  view.  His  busy  brain 
must  have  been  preoccupied  with  "Injins,"  for  he 
soon  came  running,  puffing,  and  yelling  into  camp. 
As  he  went  headlong  over  the  wagon-tongue,  his  tin 
pail  as  it  rolled  starting  a  half-score  of  dogs  to  their 
feet,  and  setting  them  upon  a  yell,  he  lustily,  and  at 
the  topmost  pitch  of  voice,  cried,  "Injins!  Injins!" 
He  soon  recovered  his  wits,  however,  and  the  pleas 
ant  little  lasses  came  into  camp  with  a  hearty  laugh 
that  they  had  so  unexpectedly  been  made  the  occa 
sion  of  a  rich  piece  of  "  fun." 

From  the  river  bend  or  crossing,  on  to  Moro,  the 
first  settlement  we  reached  in  ISTew  Mexico,  was 
about  five  hundred  miles.  Daring  this  time  nothing 
of  special  interest  occurred  to  break  the  almost  pain 
ful  monotony  of  our  way,  or  ruffle  the  quiet  of  our 
sociale,  save  an  occasional  family  jar,  the  frequent 
crossing  of  pointed  opinions,  the  now-and-then 
prophecies  of  "  Injins  ahead,"  etc.,  except  one 
"  Grape  Dumpling  "  affair,  which  must  be  related  by 
leaving  a  severe  part  untold.  At  one  of  our  camps, 
on  one  of  those  fine  water-courses  that  frequently  set 
upon  our  way,  from  the  mountains,  we  suddenly 
found  ourselves  near  neighbors  to  a  bounteously  bur 
dened  grape  orchard.  Of  these  we  ate  freely.  One 
of  our  principal  and  physically  talented  matrons, 
however,  like  the  distrustful  Israelites,  determined 
not  to  trust  to  to-morrow  for  to-morrow's  marina. 
She  accordingly  laid  in  a  more  than  night's  supply. 


THE   APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE   INDIANS.          45 

The  over-supply  was,  for  safe  keeping,  done  up 
"  brown,"  in  the  form  of  well-prepared  and  thor 
oughly-cooked,  dumplings,  and  these  deposited  in  a 
cellar-like  stern  end  of  the  "  big  wagon."  Unfortu 
nate  woman  !  if  she  had  only  performed  these  hiding 
ceremonies  when  the  lank  eye  of  one  of  our  inva 
lids,  (?)  Mr.  A.  P.,  had  been  turned  the  other  way, 
she  might  have  prevented  a  calamity,  kindred  to 
that  which  befell  the  ancient  emigrants  when  they 
sought  to  lay  by  more  than  was  demanded  by  imme 
diate  wants. 

Now  this  A.  P.  had  started  out  sick,  and  since  his 
restoration  had  been  constantly  beleaguered  by  one 
of  those  dubious  blessings,  common  as  vultures  upon 
the  plains,  a  voracious  appetite,  an  appetite  that,  like 
the  grave,  was  constantly  receiving  yet  never  found 
a  place  to  say,  "  Enough."  Slowly  he  crawled  from 
his  bed,  after  he  was  sure  that  sleep  had  made  Mrs. 
M.  oblivious  of  her  darling  dumplings,  and  the  rest 
of  the  camp  unheedful  of  his  movements,  and,  stand 
ing  at  the  stern  of  the  wagon,  he  deliberately  emptied 
almost  the  entire  contents  of  this  huge  dumpling  pan 
into  his  ever- craving  interior. 

It  seems  that  they  had  been  safely  stored  in  the 
wagon  by  this  provident  matron,  to  furnish  a  feast  for 
the  passengers  when  their  travels  might  be  along 
some  grapeless  waste ;  and  but  for  the  unnatural 
cravings  of  the  unregulated  appetite  of  A.  P.,  might 
still  have  remained  for  that  purpose.  It  was  evident 


46      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE   O  ATM  AX  GIP.LS  AMONG 

the  next  day  that  the  invalid  had  been  indulging  in 
undue  gluttony.  He  was  "  sick  again,"  and,  to  use 
his  own  phrase,  "  like  all  backsliders,  through 
worldly  or  stomach  prosperity  and  repletion." 

Madam  M.  now  seized  a  stake,  and  thoroughly 
caned  him  through  the  camp,  until  dumpling  strength 
was  low,  very  low  in  the  market. 

After  crossing  the  big  desert,  one  day,  while  travel 
ing,  some  of  our  company  had  their  notions  of  our 
personal  safety  suddenly  revolutionized  under  the 
following  circumstances.  A  Mr.  J.  Thompson  and  a 
young  man,  C.  M.,  had  gone  one  side  of  the  road 
some  distance,  hunting  antelope.  Among  the  hills, 
and  when  they  were  some  distance  in  advance  of  the 
camp,  they  came  upon  a  large  drove  of  antelopes. 
They  were  ignorant  at  the  time  of  their  whereabouts, 
and  the  routed  game  started  directly  toward  the 
train ;  but,  to  the  hunters,  the  train  seemed  to  be  in 
directly  the  opposite  direction.  In  the  chase  the 
antelopes  soon  came  in  sight  of  the  train,  and  several 
little  girls  and  boys,  seeing  them,  and  seeing  their 
pursuers,  ran  upon  a  slight  elevation  to  frighten  the 
antelopes  back  upon  the  hunters ;  whereupon,  by 
some  unaccountable  mirage  deception,  these  little 
girls  and  boys  were  suddenly  transformed  into  huge 
Indians  to  the  eyes  of  the  hunters.  They  were  at 
once  forgetful  of  their  anticipated  game,  and  regard 
ing  themselves  as  set  upon  by  a  band  of  some  giant 
race,  began  to  devise  for  their  own  escape.  Mr.  T., 


THE    APACHE    AXD    3IOHAVE    IXDIANS.          47 

thinking  that  no  mortal  arm  could  rescue  them, 
turned  at  once,  and  with  much  perturbation,  to  the 
young  man,  and  vehemently  cried  out :  "  Charles,  let 
us  pray."  Said  Charles,  "  JSTo,  I'll  be  d— d  if  I'll 
pray ;  let  us  run ;"  and  at  this  he  tried  the  valor  of 
running.  All  the  exhortations  of  the  old  man  to 
Charles  "  to  drop  his  gun"  were  as  fruitless  as  his 
entreaties  to  prayer.  But  when  Mr.  T.  saw  that 
Charles  was  making  such  rapid  escape,  he  dropped 
his  notions  of  praying,  and  took  to  the  pursuit  of  the 
path  left  by  the  running  but  unpraying  Charles.  He 
soon  outstripped  the  young  man,  and  made  him  beg 
most  lustily  of  the  old  man  "  to  wait,  and  not  run 
away  and  leave  him  there  with  the  Injins  alone." 

The  chagrin  of  the  brave  hunters,  after  they  had 
reached  camp  by  a  long  and  circuitous  route,  may 
well  be  imagined,  when  they  found  that  they  had 
been  running  from  their  own  children;  and  that 
their  fright,  and  the  running  and  fatigue  it  had  cost 
them,  had  been  well  understood  by  those  of  the 
camp  who  had  been  the  innocent  occasion  of  their 
chase  for  antelopes  suddenly  being  changed  into  a 
flight  from  "Injins." 

When  we  came  into  the  Mexican  settlements  our 
store  of  meats  was  well-nigh  exhausted,  and  we  were 
gratefully  surprised  to  find  that  at  every  stopping 
place  abundance  of  mutton  was  in  market,  fresh,  and 
of  superior  quality,  and  to  be  purchased  at  low  rates. 
This  constituted  our  principal  article  of  subsistence 


48       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIELS  AMONG 

during  the  time  we  were  traversing  several  hundred 
miles  in  this  region. 

Slowly,  but  with  unmistakable  indications  of  a 
melancholy  character,  disaffection  and  disorder  crept 
into  our  camp.  Disagreements  had  occurred  among 
families.  Those  who  had  taken  the  lead  in  origina 
ting  the  project  had  fallen  under  the  ban  and  censure 
of  those  who,  having  passed  the  novelty  of  the  trip, 
were  beginning  to  feel  the  pressure  of  its  dark,  un 
welcome,  and  unanticipated  realities.  And,  in  some 
instances,  a  conduct  was  exhibited  by  those  whose 
years  and  rank,  as  well  as  professions  made  at  the 
outset,  created  expectation  and  confidence  that  in 
them  would  be  found  benefactors  and  wise  counselors, 
that  tended  to  disgrace  their  position,  expose  the  un- 
worthiness  of  their  motives,  and  blast  the  bright 
future  that  seemed  to  hang  over  the  first  steps  of  our 
journey  ings.  As  a  consequence,  feelings  of  discord 
were  engendered,  which  gained  strength  by  unwise 
and  injudicious  counsels,  until  their  pestilential  effects 
spread  throughout  the  camp. 

At  Moro  we  tarried  one  night.  This  is  a  small 
Mexican  town,  of  about  three  hundred  inhabitants, 
containing,  as  the  only  objects  of  interest,  a  Catholic 
Mission  station,  now  in  a  dilapidated  state ;  a  Fort, 
well-garrisoned  by  Mexican  soldiers,  and  a  fine  stream 
of  water,  that  comes,  cool  and  clear,  bounding  down 
the  mountain  side,  beautifying  and  reviving  this 
finely  located  village. 


THE    APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.          49 

The  next  day  after  leaving  this  place  we  came  to 
the  Natural,  or  Santa  Fe  Pass,  and  camped  that 
night  at  the  well-known  place  called  the  Forks. 
From  this  point  there  is  one  road  leading  in  a 
more  southerly  direction,  and  frequently  selected 
by  emigrants  after  arriving  at  the  Forks,  though 
the  other  road  is  said,  by  those  best  acquainted,  to 
possess  many  advantages.  At  this  place  we  found 
that  the  disaffection,  which  had  appeared  for  some 
time  before,  was  growing  more  and  more  incurable ; 
and  it  began  to  break  out  into  a  general  storm.  Sev 
eral  of  our  number  resolved  upon  taking  the  south 
road ;  but  this  resolution  was  reached  only  as  a 
means  of  separating  themselves  from  the  remainder 
of  the  train ;  for  the  intention  really  was  to  become 
detached  from  the  restraints  and  counsels  that  they 
found  interfering  with  their  uncontrollable  selfish 
ness.  There  seemed  to  be  no  possible  method  by 
which  these  disturbing  elements  could  be  quelled, 
The  matter  gave  rise  to  an  earnest  consultation  and 
discussion  upon  the  part  of  the  sober  and  prudent 
portion  of  our  little  band ;  but  all  means  and  meas 
ures  proposed  for  an  amicable  adjustment  of  variances 
and  divisions,  seemed  powerless  when  brought  in 
contact  with  the  unmitigated  selfishness  that,  among 
a  certain  few,  had  blotted  out  from  their  view  the 
one  object  and  system  of  regulation  that  they  had 
been  instrumental  in  throwing  around  the  undertak 
ing  at  first. 


50       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

We  now  saw  a  sad  illustration  of  the  adage  that 
"it  is  not  all  gold  that  glitters."  The  novelty  of  the 
scene,  together  with  every  facility  for  personal  com 
fort  and  enjoyment,  may  suffice  to  spread  the  glad 
light  of  good  cheer  about  the  first  few  days  or  weeks 
of  an  emigrating  tour  upon  these  dreary  plains ;  but 
let  its  pathway  be  found  among  hostile  tribes  for  a 
number  of  weeks;  let  a  scarcity  of  provisions  be 
felt ;  let  teams  begin  to  fail,  with  no  time  or  pastur 
age  to  recruit  them ;  let  inclement  weather  and 
swollen  streams  begin  to  hedge  up  the  way ;  these, 
and  more  that  frequently  becomes  a  dreadful  reality, 
have  at  once  a  wonderful  power  to  turn  every  man 
into  a  kingdom  by  himself,  and  to  develop  the  real 
nature  of  the  most  hidden  motives  of  his  being. 

Several  of  those  who  had,  with  unwonted  diligence 
and  forbearance,  sought  to  restore  quiet  and  satisfac 
tion,  but  to  no  purpose,  resolved  upon  remaining  here 
until  the  disaffected  portion  had  selected  the  direc 
tion  and  order  of  their  own  movements,  and  then 
quietly  pursue  their  way  westward  by  the  other 
route.  After  some  delay,  and  much  disagreeable 
discussion  among  themselves,  the  northern  route 
was  selected  by  the  malcontents,  and  they  com 
menced  their  travels  apart.  The  remainder  of  us 
started  upon  the  south  road  ;  and  though  our  animals 
were  greatly  reduced,  our  social  condition  was  greatly 
improved. 

We  journeyed  on  pleasantly  for  about  one  hundred 


THE    APACHE    AXD    MOIIAVE    IXDIAX  ;.  51 

miles,  when  we  reached  Socoro,  a  beautiful  and  some 
what  thrifty  Mexican  settlement.  Our  teams  were 
now  considerably  jaded,  and  we  found  it  necessary  to 
make  frequent  halts  and  tarry  ings  for  the  purpose  of 
recruiting  them.  And  this  we  found  it  the  more  diffi 
cult  to  do,  as  we  were  reaching  a  season  of  the  year, 
and  section  of  country,  that  furnished  a  scanty  supply 
of  feed.  We  spent  one  week  at  Socoro,  for  the  purpose 
of  rest  to  ourselves  and  teams,  as  also  to  replenish,  if 
possible,  our  fast  diminishing  store  of  supplies.  We 
found  that  food  was  becoming  more  scarce  among 
the  settlements  that  lay  along  our  line  of  travel ;  that 
quality  and  price  were  likewise  serious  difficulties, 
and  that  our  wherewith  to  purchase  even  these  was 
well-nigh  exhausted. 

We  journeyed  from  Socoro  to  the  Rio  Grande 
amid  many  and  disheartening  embarrassments  and 
troubles.  Sections  ofxthe  country  were  almost  bar 
ren  ;  teams  were  failing,  and  indications  of  hostility 
among  the  tribes  of  Indians  (representatives  of  whom 
frequently  gave  us  the  most  unwelcome  greetings) 
were  becoming  more  frequent  and  alarming. 

Just  before  reaching  the  Rio  Grande,  two  fine 
horses  were  stolen  from  Mr.  Oatman.  We  afterward 
learned  that  they  had  been  soon  after  seen  among  the 
Mexicans,  though  by  them  the  theft  was  attributed  to 
unfriendly  neighboring  tribes ;  and  it  was  asserted 

«/  c5  O 

that  horses,  stolen  from  trains  of  emigrants,  were 
frequently  brought  into  Mexican  settlements  and 


52       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

offered  for  sale.  It  is  proper  here  to  apprise  the 
reader,  that  the  project  of  a  settlement  in  New- 
Mexico  had  now  been  entirely  abandoned  since  the 
division  mentioned  above,  and  that  California  had 
become  the  place  where  we  looked  for  a  termin 
ation  of  our  travel,  and  the  land  where  we  hoped 
soon  to  reach  and  find  a  home.  At  the  Rio  Grande 
we  rested  our  teams  one  week,  as  a  matter  of  neces 
sary  mere}7,  for  every  day  we  tarried  was  only  in 
creasing  the  probability  of  the  exhaustion  of  our 
provisions,  ere  we  could  reach  a  place  of  perma 
nent  supply.  We  took  from  this  point  the  "  Cook 
and  Kearney"  route,  and  found  the  grass  for  our 
teams  for  a  while  more  plentiful  than  for  hundreds 
of  miles  previous.  Our  train  now  consisted  of  eight 
wagons  and  twenty  persons.  We  now  came  into  a 
mountainous  country,  and  we  found  the  frequent 
and  severe  ascents  and  decKvities  wearing  upon 
our  teams  beyond  any  of  our  previous  travel.  We 
often  consumed  whole  days  in  making  less  than  one 
quarter  of  the  usual  day's  advance.  A  few  days  after 
leaving  the  Rio  Grande,  one  Mr.  Lane  died  of  the 
mountain  fever.  He  was  a  man  highly  esteemed 
among  the  members  of  the  train,  and  we  felt  his 
loss  severely.  We  dug  a  grave  upon  one  of  the  foot 
hills,  and  with  appropriate  funeral  obsequies  we  low 
ered  his  remains  into  the  same.  Some  of  the  female 
members  of  our  company  planted  a  flower  upon  the 
mound  that  lifted  itself  over  his  lonely  grave.  A 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIANS.          53 

rude  stake,  with  his  name  and  date  of  his  death  in 
scribed  upon  it,  was  all  we  left  to  mark  the  spot  of 
his  last  resting-place.  One  morning,  after  spending 
a  cool  night  in  a  bleak  and  barren  place,  we  awoke 
with  several  inches  of  snow  lying  about  us  upon  the 
hills  in  the  distance.  We  had  spent  the  night  and  a 
part  of  the  previous  day  without  water.  Our  stock 
were  scattered  during  the  night,  and  onr  first  object, 
after  looking  them  up,  was  to  find  some  friendly 
place  where  we  might  slake  our  thirst. 

The  morning  was  cold,  with  a  fierce  bleak  wind 
setting  in  from  the  north.  Added  to  the  pains  of 
thirst,  was  the  severity  of  the  cold.  We  found  that 
the  weather  is  subject,  in  this  region,  to  sudden 
changes,  from  one  to  the  other  extreme.  While  in 
this  distressed  condition  some  of  our  party  espied  in 
the  distance  a  streak  of  timber  letting  down  from  the 
mountains,  indicative  of  running  living  water.  To 
go  to  this  timber  we  immediately  made  preparation, 
with  the  greatest  possible  dispatch,  as  our  only  resort. 
And  our  half-wavering  expectations  were  more  than 
realized ;  for  after  a  most  fatiguing  trip  of  nearly  a 
day,  during  which  many  of  us  were  suffering  severely 
from  thirst,  we  reached  the  place,  and  found  not  only 
timber  and  water  in  abundance,  but  a  plentiful  sup 
ply  of  game.  Turkeys,  deer,  antelope,  and  wild 
sheep  were  dancing  through  every  part  of  the  beauti 
ful  woodland  that  lured  us  from  our  bleak  mountain 
camp.  As  the  weather  continued  extremely  cold  we 


54      CAPTIVITY   OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

must  have  suffered  severely,  if  we  had  not  lost  our 
lives,  even,  by  the  severity  of  the  weather,  as  there 
was  not  a  particle  of  anything  with  which  to  kindle 
a  fire,  unless  we  had  used  our  wagon  timber  for 
that  purpose,  had  we  not  sought  the  shelter  of  this 
friendly  grove.  We  soon  resolved  upon  at  least  one 
week's  rest  in  this  place,  and  arrangements  were 
made  accordingly.  During  the  week  we  feasted 
upon  the  most  excellent  wild  meat,  and  spent  most 
of  our  time  in  hunting  and  fishing.  Excepting  the 
fear  we  constantly  entertained  concerning  the  Indians 
of  the  neighborhood,  we  spent  the  week  here  very 
pleasantly.  One  morning  three  large,  fierce-looking 
Apaches  came  into  camp  at  an  early  hour.  They 
put  on  all  possible  pretensions  of  friendship ;  but 
from  the  first  their  movements  were  suspicious. 
They  for  a  time  surveyed  narrowly  our  wagon  and 
teams,  and,  so  far  as  allowed  to  do  so,  our  articles  of 
food,  clothing,  guns,  etc.  Suspecting  their  intentions 
we  bade  them  be  off,  upon  which  they  reluctantly 
left  our  retreat.  That  night  the  dogs  kept  up  a  bark 
ing  nearly  the  whole  night,  and  at  seasons  of  the  night 
would  run  to  their  masters,  and  then  a  short  distance 
into  the  wood,  as  if  to  warn  us  of  the  nearness  of 
danger.  "We  put  out  our  fires,  and  each  man,  with 
his  arms,  kept  vigilant  guard.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  by  this  means  our  lives  were  preserved.  Tracts 
of  a  large  number  of  Indians  were  seen  near  the 
camp  next  morning ;  and  on  going  out  we  found  that 


THE    APACHE    AXD    MOIIAVE    INDIANS.         55 

twenty  head  of  stock  had  been  driven  away,  some  of 
which  belonged  to  the  teams.  By  this  several  of  our 
teams  were  so  reduced  that  we  found  extreme  diffi 
culty  in  getting  along.  Some  of  our  wagons  and 
baggage  were  left  at  a  short  distance  from  this  in 
consequence  of  what  we  here  lost.  We  traced  the 
animals  some  distance,  until  we  found  the  trail  lead 
ing  into  the  wild,  difficult  mountain  fastnesses,  where 
it  was  dangerous  and  useless  to  follow. 

We  were  soon  gathered  up,  and  en  route  again  for 
"  Ta  Bac,"  another  Mexican  settlement,  of  which  we 
had  learned  as  presenting  inducements  for  a  short 
recruiting  halt. 

We  found  ourselves  again  traveling  through  a  rich 
pasturage  country,  abounding  with  the  most  enchant 
ing,  charming  scenery  that  had  greeted  us  since  we 
had  left  the  "Big  Bend."  We  came  into  "Ta  Bac" 
with  better  spirits,  and  more  vigorous  teams,  than 
was  allowed  us  during  the  last  few  hundred  miles. 

At  this  place  one  of  our  number  became  the  un 
willing  subject  of  a  most  remarkable  and  dampening 
transaction.  Mrs.  M.,  of  "grape  dumpling"  noto 
riety,  while  bearing  her  two  hundred  and  forty  of 
avoirdupois  about  the  camp  at  rather  a  too  rapid  rate, 
suddenly  came  in  sight  of  a  well  that  had  been  dug 
years  before  by  the  Mexican  settlers. 

While  guiding  her  steps  so  as  to  shun  this  huge- 
looking  hole,  suddenly  she  felt  old  earth  giving  way 
beneath  her.  It  proved  that  a  well  of  more  ancient 


56       CAPTIVITY   OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

date  than  the  one  she  was  seeking  to  shun  had  been 
dug  directly  in  her  way,  but  had  accumulated  a 
fine  covering  of  grass  during  the  lapse  of  years.  The 
members  of  the  camp,  who  were  lazily  whiling  away 
the  hours  on  the  down  hill-side  of  the  well's  mouth, 
were  soon  apprised  of  the  fact  that  some  momentous 
cause  had  interfered  with  nature's  laws,  and  opened 
some  new  and  hitherto  unseen  fountains  in  her  bosom. 
With  the  sudden  disappearance  of  Mrs.  M.,  there 
came  a  large  current  of  clear  cold  water  flowing 
through  the  camp,  greatly  dampening  our  joys,  and 
starting  us  upon  the  alert  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of 
this  strange  phenomenon.  Mrs.  M.  we  soon  found 
safely  lodged  in  the  old  well,  but  perfectly  secure, 
as  the  water,  on  the  principle  that  two  bodies  can 
not  occupy  the  same  space  at  the  same  time,  had 
leaped  out  as  Mrs.  M.'s  mammoth  proportions  had 
suddenly  laid  an  imperative  possessory  injunction 
upon  the  entire  dimensions  of  the  "hole  in  the 
ground." 

"We  found,  after  leaving  Ta  Bac,  the  road  uneven ; 
the  rains  had  set  in ;  the  nights  were  cold ;  and  evi 
dences  of  the  constant  nearness  and  evil  designs  of 
savage  tribes  were  manifested  every  few  miles  that 
we  passed  over.  Several  once  rich,  but  now  evac 
uated,  Mexican  towns  were  passed,  from  which  the 
rightful  owners  of  the  soil  had  been  driven  by  the 
Apaches.  At  "Santa  Cruz"  we  found  a  Mexican 
settlement  of  about  one  hundred  inhabitants,  friendly, 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIANS.         57 

and  rejoiced  to  see  us  come  among  them,  as  they 
were  living  constantly  in  fear  of  the  implacable 
Apaches,  whose  depredations  were  frequent  and  of 
most  daring  and  outrageous  character.  Almost 
every  day  bands  of  these  miscreant  wretches  were 
in  sight  upon  the  surrounding  hills  waiting  favorable 
opportunities  for  the  perpetration  of  deeds  of  plunder 
and  death.  They  would  at  times  appear  near  to  the 
Mexican  herdsmen,  and  tauntingly  command  them 
"  to  herd  and  take  care  of  those  cattle  for  the 
Apaches."  We  found  the  country  rich  and  desirable, 
but  for  its  being  infested  by  these  desperadoes.  We 
learned,  both  from  the  Mexicans  and  the  conduct 
of  the  Indians  themselves,  that  one  American  placed 
them  under  more  dread  and  fear  than  a  score  of 
Mexicans.  If  along  this  road  we  were  furnished 
with  a  fair  representation,  these  Mexicans  are  an 
imbecile,  frail,  cowardly,  and  fast  declining  race. 
By  the  friendliness  and  generosity  of  the  settlers  at 
this  point,  we  made  a  fine  recruit  while  tarrying 
there.  For  a  while  we  entertained  the  project 
of  remaining  for  a  year.  Probably,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  prowling  savages,  whose  thieving,  murdering 
banditti  infest  field  and  woodland,  we  might  have 
entered  into  negotiations  with  the  Mexicans  to  this 
effect ;  but  we  were  now  en  route  for  the  Eureka  of 
the  Pacific  Slope,  and  we  thought  we  had  no  time  to 
waste  between  us  and  the  realization  of  our  golden 
dreams.  Every  inducement  that  fear  and  generosity 


58       CAPTIVITY   OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

could  invent,  and  that  was  in  the  power  of  these 
Mexicans  to  control,  was,  however,  presented  and 
urged  in  favor  of  our  taking  up  a  residence  among 
them.  But  we  had  no  certainty  that  our  small  num 
ber,  though  of  the  race  most  their  dread,  would  be 
sufficient  to  warrant  us  in  the  successful  cultivation 
of  the  rich  and  improved  soil  that  was  proffered  us. 
Nothing  but  a  constant  guard  of  the  most  vigilant 
kind  could  promise  any  safety  to  fields  of  grain,  or 
herds  of  cattle. 

We  next,  and  at  about  eighty  miles  from  Santa 
Cruz,  came  to  Tukjon,  another  larger  town  than 
Santa  Cruz,  and  more  pleasantly,  as  well  as  more  se 
curely  situated.  Here  again  the  same  propositions 
were  renewed  as  had  been  plied  so  vehemently  at  the 
last  stopping-place.  Such  were  the  advantages  that 
our  hosts  held  out  for  the  raising  of  a  crop  of  grain, 
and  fattening  our  cattle,  that  some  of  our  party  im 
mediately  resolved  upon  at  least  one  year's  stay. 
The  whole  train  halted  here  one  month.  During 
that  time,  those  of  our  party  who  could  not  be  pre 
vailed  upon  to  proceed,  had  arrangements  made  and 
operations  commenced  for  a  year  of  agricultural  and 
farming  employment. 

At  the  end  of  one  month  the  family  of  Wilders, 
Kellys,  and  ourselves,  started.  "We  urged  on  amid 
multiplying  difficulties  for  several  days.  Our  pro 
visions  had  been  but  poorly  replenished  at  the  last 
place,  as  the  whole  of  their  crops  had  been  destroyed 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.  59 

by  their  one  common  and  relentless  foe,  during  the 
year.  With  all  their  generosity,  it  was  out  of  their 
power  to  aid  us  as  much  as  they  would  have  done. 
Frequently  after  this,  for  several  nights,  we  were 
waked  to  arm  ourselves  against  the  approaching 
Apaches,  who  hung  in  front  and  rear  of  our  camp  for 
nights  and  days. 

Wearied,  heart-sick,  and  nearly  destitute,  we 
arrived  at  the  Pimo  Village,  on  or  about  the  16th  of 
February,  1851.  Here  we  found  a  settlement  of  In 
dians,  who  were  in  open  hostility  to  the  Apaches, 
and  by  whose  skill  and  disciplined  strength  they 
were  kept  from  pushing  their  depredations  further  in 
that  direction.  But  so  long  had  open  and  active 
hostilities  been  kept  up,  that  they  were  short  of  pro 
visions  and  in  nearly  a  destitute  situation.  They  had 
been  wont  to  turn  their  attention  and  energies  con 
siderably  to  farming,  but  during  the  last  two  years, 
their  habits  in  this  respect  had  been  greatly  inter 
fered  with.  We  found  the  ninety  miles  that  divides 
Tukjon  from  Pimole  to  be  the  most  dismal,  desolate, 
and  unfruitful  of  all  the  regions  over  which  our 
way  had  led  us  as  yet.  We  could  find  nothing  that 
could,  to  a  sound  judgment,  furnish  matter  of  con 
tention,  such  as  had  been  raging  between  the  rival 
claimants  of  its  blighted  peaks  and  crags. 

Poor  and  desolate  as  were  the  war-hunted  Pimoles, 
and  unpromising  as  seemed  every  project  surveyed 
by  our  anxious  eyes  for  relief,  and  a  supply  of  our 


60      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS   AMOXG 

almost  drained  stores  of  provisions,  yet  it  was  soon 
apparent  to  our  family,  that  if  we  would  proceed  fur 
ther  we  must  venture  the  journey  alone.  Soon,  and 
after  a  brief  consultation,  a  full  resolution  was 
reached  by  the  Wilders  and  Kellys  to  remain,  and 
stake  their  existence  upon  traffic  with  the  Pimoles, 
or  upon  a  sufficient  tarrying  to  produce  for  them 
selves  ;  until  from  government  or  friends,  they  might 
be  supplied  with  sufficient  to  reach  Fort  Yuma. 

To  Mr.  Oatman  this  resolution  brought  a  trial  of  a 
darker  hue  than  any  that  had  cast  its  shadows  upon 
him  as  yet.  He  believed  that  starvation,  or  the 
hand  of  the  treacherous  savage,  would  soon  bring 
them  to  an  awful  fate  if  they  tarried ;  aad  with 
much  reluctance  he  resolved  to  proceed,  with  no 
attendants  or  companions  save  his  exposed  and 
depressed  family. 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.  61 


CHAPTEK  II. 

Mrs.  and  Mrs.  Oatraan  in  Perplexity — Interview  with  Dr.  Lecount  — 
Advises  them  to  proceed  — They  start  alone  — Teams  begin  to  fail  — 
The  Eoads  are  bad—  The  Country  rough  and  mountainous  —  Compelled 
to  carry  the  Baggage  up  the  Hills  by  Hand  —  Overtaken  by  Dr.  Lecount 
on  his  way  to  Fort  Yuma — He  promises  them  Assistance  from  the 
Fort  —  The  next  Night  the  Horses  of  Dr.  Lecount  are  stolen  by  the 
Apaches  —  He  posts  a  Card,  warning  Mr.  Oatman  of  Danger,  and  starts 
on  Foot  for  the  Fort  — Eeach  the  Gila  Eiver— Camp  on  the  Island  late 
at  Night  —  Their  dreary  Situation,  and  the  Conversation  of  the  Children 
—  The  Morning  of  the  29th  of  March  — Their  Struggle  to  ascend  the 
Hill  on  the  29th  —  Eeach  the  Summit  about  Sunset  —  The  Despondence 
and  Presentiments  of  Mr.  Oatman — Nineteen  Apaches  approach  them 
Profess  Friendliness  —  The  Massacre  —  Lorenzo  left  for  Dead,  but  is 
preserved — The  Capture  of  Olive  and  Mary  Ann. 

THE  reader  should  here  be  apprised  that,  as  the  entire 
narrative  that  follows  has  an  almost  exclusive  refer 
ence  to  those  members  of  the  family  who  alone  survive 
to  tell  this  sad  tale  of  their  sufferings  and  privations, 
it  has  been  thought  the  most  appropriate  that  it  be 
given  in  the  first  person. 

Lorenzo  D.  Oatman  has  given  to  the  author  the 
following  facts,  reaching  on  to  the  moment  when  he 
was  made  senseless,  and  in  that  condition  left  by 
the  Apache  murderers. 

"  We  were  left  to  the  severe  alternative  of  starting 
with  a  meagre  supply,  which  any  considerable  delay 


62      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAX  GIRLS  AMONG 

would  exhaust  ere  we  could  reach  a  place  of  re-sup 
ply,  or  to  stay  among  the  apparently  friendly  Indians, 
who  also  were  but  poorly  supplied  at  best  to  furnish 
us;  and  of  whose  real  intentions  it  was  impossible  to 
form  any  reliable  conclusion.  The  statement  that  I 
have  since  seen  in  the  c  Ladies'  Kepository,'  made  by 
a  traveling  correspondent  who  was  at  Pimole  village 
at  the  time  of  writing,  concerning  the  needlessness 
and  absence  of  all  plausible  reason  for  the  course 
resolved  upon  by  my  father,  is  incorrect.  There 
were  reasons  for  the  tarrying  of  the  "Wilders  and 
Kellys  that  had  no  pertinence  when  considered  in 
connection  with  the  peculiarities  of  the  condition  of 
my  father's  family.  The  judgment  of  those  who 
remained,  approved  of  the  course  elected  by  my 
father. 

"  One  of  the  many  circumstances  that  conspired  to 
spread  a  gloom  over  the  way  that  was  before  us,  was 
the  jaded  condition  of  our  team,  which  by  this  time 
consisted  of  two  yoke  of  cows  and  one  yoke  of  oxen. 
My  parents  were  in  distress  and  perplexity  for  some 
time  to  determine  the  true  course  dictated  by  pru 
dence,  and  their  responsibility  in  the  premises.  One 
hundred  and  ninety  miles  of  desert  and  mountain, 
each  alike  barren  and  verdureless,  save  now  and 
then  a  diminutive  gorge  (water-coursed  and  grass- 
fringed,  that  miles  apart  led  down  from  the  high 
mountain  ranges  across  the  dreary  road)  stretched  out 
between  us  and  the  next  settlement  or  habitation  of 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOIIAYE   INDIANS.  63 

man.  We  felt,  deeply  felt,  the  hazardous  character 
of  our  undertaking ;  and  for  a  time  lingered  in  pain 
ful  suspense  over  the  proposed  adventure.  We  felt 
and  feared  that  a  road  stretching  to  such  a  distance, 
through  an  uninhabited  and  wild  region,  might  be 
infested  with  marauding  bands  of  the  Indians  who 
were  known  to  roam  over  the  mountains  that  were 
piled  up  to  the  north  of  us ;  who,  though  they  might 
be  persuaded  or  intimidated  to  spare  us  the  fate  of 
falling  by  their  savage  hands,  yet  might  plunder  us 
of  all  we  had  as  means  for  life's  subsistence.  While  in 
this  dreadful  suspense,  one  Dr.  Lecount,  attended  by  a 
Mexican  guide,  came  into  the  Pimole  village.  He 
was  on  his  return  from  a  tour  that  had  been  pushed 
westward,  almost  to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  As  soon  as 
we  learned  of  his  presence  among  us,  father  sought 
and  obtained  an  interview  with  him.  And  it  was 
upon  information  gained  from  him,  that  the  decision 
to  proceed  was  finally  made. 

"  He  had  passed  the  whole  distance  to  Fort  Yuma, 
and  returned,  all  within  a  few  months,  unharmed  ; 
and  stated  that  he  had  not  witnessed  indications 
of  even  the  neighborhood  of  Indiana.  Accordingly 
on  the  llth  of  March,  finding  provisions  becoming 
scarce  among  the  Pi  moles,  and  our  own  rapidly 
wasting,  unattended,  in  a  country  and  upon  a  road 
where  the  residence,  or  even  the  trace  of  one  of  our 
own  nation  would  be  sought  in  vain,  save  that  of  the 
hurrying  traveler  who  was  upon  some  official  mission, 


64      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAX  GIRLS  AMONG 

or,  as  in  the  case  of  Dr.  Lecount,  some  scientific 
pursuit  requiring  dispatch,  we  resumed  our  travel. 
Our  teams  were  reduced ;  we  were  disappointed  in 
being  abandoned  by  our  fellow-travelers,  and 
wearied,  almost  to  exhaustion,  by  the  long  and 
fatiguing  march  that  had  conducted  us  to  this  point. 
We  were  lengthening  out  a  toilsome  journey  for  an 
object  and  destination  quite  foreign  to  the  one  that 
had  pushed  us  upon  the  wild  scheme  at  first.  And 
this  solitary  commencement  on  our  travel  upon  a 
devious  way,  dismal  as  it  was  in  every  aspect,  seemed 
the  only  alternative  that  gave  any  promise  of  an 
extrication  from  the  dark  and  frowning  perils  and 
sufferings  that  were  every  day  threatening  about  us, 
and  with  every  step  of  advance  into  the  increasing 
wildness  pressing  more  and  more  heavily  upon  us." 

Let  the  imagination  of  the  reader  awake  and 
dwell  upon  the  probable  feelings  of  those  fond 
parents  at  this  trying  juncture  of  circumstances  ;  and 
when  it  shall  have  drawn  upon  the  resources  that 
familiarity  with  the  heart's  deepest  anguish  may 
furnish,  it  will  fail  to  paint  them  with  any  of  that 
poignant  accuracy  that  will  bring  him  into  stern 
sympathy  with  their  condition. 

Attended  by  a  family,  a  family  which,  in  the  event 
of  their  being  overtaken  by  any  of  the  catastrophes 
that  reason  and  prudence  bade  them  beware  of  on  the 
route,  must  be  helpless ;  if  they  did  not,  even  by  their 
presence  and  peculiar  exposure,  give  point  and  power 


THE   APACHE   A]S"D    MOHAVE    INDIANS.  65 

to  the  sense  and  presence  of  danger;  a  family  entirely 
dependent  upon  them  for  that  daily  bread  of  which 
they  were  liable  to  be  left  destitute  at  any  moment ; 
far  from  human  abodes,  and  with  the  possibility  that, 
beyond  the  reach  of  relief,  they  might  be  set  upon 
by  the  grim,  ghastly  demon  of  famine,  or  be  made 
the  victims  of  the  blood-thirstiness  and  slow  tortures 
of  those  human  devils  who,  with  savage  ferocity, 
lurk  for  prey,  when  least  their  presence  is  an 
ticipated  ;  the  faint  prospect  at  best  there  was 
for  accomplishing  all  that  must  be  performed  ere 
they  could  count  upon  safety  ;  these,  all  these,  and  a 
thousand  kindred  considerations,  crowded  upon  those 
lonely  hours  of  travel,  and  furnished  attendant  reflec 
tions  that  burned  through  the  whole  being  of  these 
parents  with  the  intensity  of  desperation.  O !  how 
many  noble  hearts  have  been  turned  out  upon  these 
dismal,  death-marked  by-ways,  that  have  as  yet  formed 
the  only  land  connection  between  the  Atlantic  and 
Pacific  slopes,  to  bleed,  and  moan,  and  sigh,  for 
weeks,  and  even  months,  suspended  in  painful  un 
certainty,  between  life  and  death  at  every  moment. 
Apprehensions  for  their  own  safety,  or  the  safety  of 
dependent  ones,  like  ghosts  infernal,  haunting  them  at 
every  step.  Fear,  fear  worse  than  death,  if  possible, 
lest  sickness,  famine,  or  the  sudden  onslaught  of 
merciless  savages,  that  infest  the  mountain  fast 
nesses,  and  prowl  and  skulk  through  the  innumerable 
hiding-places  furnished  by  the  wide  sage-fields  and 


66     CAPTIVITY   Ov    THE  O  ATM  AN   GIRLS   AMONG 

chapparel,  might  intercept  a  journey,  the  first  stages 
of  which  glowed  with  the  glitter  and  charm  of 
novelty,  and  beamed  with  the  light  of  hope,  but 
was  now  persisted  in,  through  unforeseen  and  deep 
ening  gloom,  as  a  last  and  severe  alternative  of  self- 
preservation,  oppressed  their  hearts. 

Monuments !  monuments,  blood-written,  of  these 
uncounted  miseries,  that  will  survive  the  longest 
lived  of  those  most  recently  escaped,  are  inscribed 
upon  the  bleached  and  bleaching  bones  of  our  com 
mon  humanity  and  nationality ;  are  written  upon  the 
rude  graves  of  our  countrymen  and  kin,  that  strew 
these  highways  of  death ;  written  upon  the  molder- 
ing  timbers  of  decaying  vehicles  of  transport;  writ 
ten  in  blood  that  now  beats  and  pulsates  in  the  veins 
of  solitary  and  scathed  survivors,  as  well  as  in  the 
stain  of  kindred  blood  that  still  preserves  its  tale-tell 
ing,  unbleached  hue,  upon  scattered  grass-plots,  and 
Sahara  sand  mounds ;  written  upon  favored  retreats, 
sought  at  the  close  of  a  dusty  day's  toil  for  nourish 
ment,  but  suddenly  turned  into  one  of  the  unattended, 
unchronicled  deathbeds,  already  and  before  fre 
quenting  these  highways  of  carnage  and  wrecks; 
written,  ah !  too  sadly,  deeply  engraven  upon  the 
tablet  of  memories  that  keep  alive  the  scenes  of 
butcheries  and  captive-making  that  have  rent  and 
mangled  whole  households,  and  are  now  preserved  to 
embitter  the  whole  gloom-clad  afterpart  of  the 
miraculously  preserved  survivors. 


THE    APACHE    A1STD    MOHAVE    INDIANS.          67 

If  there  be  an  instance  of  one  family  having  ex 
perienced  trials  that  with  peculiar  pungency  may 
suggest  a  train  of  reflection  like  the  above,  that 
family  is  the  one  presented  to  the  reader's  notice  in 
these  pages.  Seven  of  them  have  fallen  under  the 
extreme  of  the  dark  picture;  two  only  live  to  tell 
herein  the  tale  of  their  own  narrow  escape,  and  the 
agonies  which  marked  the  process  by  which  it  came. 

"For  six  days,"  says  one  of  these,  "our  course  was 
due  southwest,  at  a  slow  and  patience-trying  rate. 
AVe  were  pressing  through  many  difficulties,  with 
which  our  minds  were  so  occupied  that  they  could 
neither  gather  nor  retain  any  distinct  impression  of 
the  country  over  which  this  first  week  of  our  solitary 
travel  bore  us.  While  thus,  on  the  seventh  day  from 
Pimole,  we  were  struggling  and  battling  with  the  tide 
of  opposition  that,  with  the  increasing  force  of  multi 
plying  embarrassments  and  drawbacks,  was  setting  in 
against  us,  our  teams  failing  and  sometimes  in  the 
most  difficult  and  dangerous  places  utterly  refusing 
to  proceed,  we  were  overtaken  by  Dr.  Lecount,  who 
with  his  Mexican  guide  was  on  his  way  back  to  Fort 
Yuma.  The  doctor  saw  our  condition,  and  his  large, 
generous  heart  poured  upon  us  a  flood  of  sympathy, 
which,  with  the  words  of  good  cheer  he  addressed  us, 
was  the  only  relief  it  was  in  his  power  to  administer. 
Father  sent  by  him,  and  at  his  own  suggestion,  to  the 
fort  for  immediate  assistance.  This  message  the 

doctor  promised  should  be  conveyed  to  the  fort,  (we 

5 


G$       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN   GIRLS  AMOXG 

were  about  ninety  miles  distant  from  it  at  the  time,) 
with  all  possible  dispatch,  also  kindly  assuring  us 
that  all  within  his  power  should  be  done  to  procure 
us  help  at  once.  We  were  all  transiently  elated  with 
the  prospect  thus  suddenly  opening  upon  us  of  a 
relief  from  this  source,  and  especially  as  we  were 
confident  that  Dr.  Lecount  would  be  prompted  to 
every  office  and  work  in  our  behalf,  that  he  might 
command  at  the  fort,  where  he  was  well  and  favor 
ably  known.  But  soon  a  dark  cloud  threw  its 
shadow  upon  all  these  hopes,  and  again  our  wonted 
troubles  rolled  upon  us  with  an  augmented  force 
Our  minds  became  anxious,  and  our  limbs  were 
jaded.  The  roads  had  been  made  bad,  at  places 
almost  impassable,  by  recent  rains,  and  for  the  first 
time  the  strength  and  courage  of  my  parents  gave 
signs  of  exhaustion.  It  seemed,  and  indeed  was  thus 
spoken  of  among  us,  that  the  dark  wing  of  some 
terrible  calamity  was  spread  over  us,  and  casting  the 
shadows  of  evil  ominously  and  thickly  upon  our 
path.  The  only  method  by  which  we  could  make 
the  ascent  of  the  frequent  high  hills  that  hedged  our 
way,  was  by  unloading  the  wagon  and  carrying  the 
contents  piece  by  piece  to  the  top ;  and  even  then 
we  were  often  compelled  to  aid  a  team  of  four  cows 
and  two  oxen  to  lift  the  empty  wagon.  It  was  well 
for  us,  perhaps,  that  there  was  not  added  to  the  bur 
den  of  these  long  and  weary  hours,  a  knowledge  of 
the  mishap  that  had  befallen  the  messenger  gone  on 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIANS.          69 

before.  About  sunset  of  the  da}7  after  Dr.  Lecount 
left  us,  he  camped  about  thirty  miles  ahead  of  us, 
turned  his  horses  into  a  small  valley  hemmed  in  by 
high  mountains,  and  with  his  guide  slept  until  about 
daybreak.  Just  as  the  day  was  breaking  and  prep 
arations  were  being  made  to  gather  up  for  a  ride  to 
the  fort  that  day,  twelve  Indians  suddenly  emerged 
from  behind  a  bluff  hill  near  by  and  entered  the 
camp.  Dr.  Lecount,  taken  by  surprise  by  the  pres 
ence  of  these  unexpected  visitants,  seized  his  arms, 
and  with  his  guide  kept  a  close  eye  upon  their 
movements,  which  he  soon  discovered  wore  a  very 
suspicious  appearance.  One  of  the  Indians  would 
draw  the  doctor  into  a  conversation,  which  they  held 
in  the  Mexican  tongue  ;  during  which  others  of  the 
band  would  with  an  air  of  carelessness  edge  about, 
encircling  the  doctor  and  his  guide,  until  in  a  few 
moments,  despite  their  friendly  professions,  their 
treacherous  intentions  were  plainly  read.  At  the 
suggestion  of  his  bold,  intrepid,  and  experienced 
guide,  they  both  sprang  to  one  side,  the  guide  pre 
senting  to  the  Indians  his  knife,  and  the  doctor  his 
pistol.  The  Indians  then  put  on  the  attitude  of 
fight,  but  feared  to  strike.  They  still  continued  their 
efforts  to  beguile  the  doctor  into  carelessness,  by  in 
troducing  questions  and  topics  of  conversation,  but 
they  could  not  manage  to  cover  with  this  thin  gauze 
the  murder  of  their  hearts.  Soon  the  avenging  fero 
city  of  the  Mexican  began  to  burn,  he  violently 


*70      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIELS  AMONG 

sprang  into  the  air,  rushed  toward  them  brandishing 
his  knife,  and  beckoning  to  the  doctor  to  come  on ; 
he  was  about  in  the  act  of  plunging  his  knife  into  the 
leader  of  the  band,  but  was  restrained  by  the  cool 
ness  and  prudence  of  Doctor  Lecount.  Manuel  (the 
guide)  was  perfectly  enraged  at  their  insolence,  and 
would  again  and  again  spring,  tiger-like  toward 
them,  crying  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "terrily,  ter- 
rily!"  The  Indians  soon  made  off.  On  going  into 
the  valley  for  their  animals  they  soon  found  that  the 
twelve  Indians  had  enacted  the  above  scene  in 
the  camp,  merely  as  a  ruse  to  engage  their  attention, 
while  another  party  of  the  same  rascal  band  were 
driving  their  mules  and  horse  beyond  their  reach. 
They  found  evidences  that  this  had  been  done  within 
the  last  hour.  The  doctor  returned  to  camp,  packed 
his  saddle  and  packages  in  a  convenient,  secluded 
place  near  by,  and  gave  orders  to  his  guide  to  pro 
ceed  immediately  to  the  fort,  himself  resolving  to 
await  his  return.  Soon  after  Manuel  had  left,  how 
ever,  he  bethought  him  of  the  Oatman  family,  of 
their  imminent  peril,  and  of  the  pledge  he  had  put 
himself  under  to  them,  to  secure  them  the  earliest 
possible  assistance ;  and  he  now  had  become  painfully 
apprised  of  reasons  for  the  most  prompt  and  punctual 
fulfillment  of  that  pledge.  He  immediately  pre 
pared,  and  at  a  short  distance  toward  us  posted  upon 
a  tree  near  the  road  a  card,  warning  us  of  the  near 
ness  of  the  Apaches,  and  relating  therein  in  brief 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS. 

what  had  befallen  himself  at  their  hands ;  reassuring 
us  also  of  his  determined  diligence  to  secure  us  pro 
tection,  and  declaring  his  purpose,  contrary  to  a  res 
olution  he  had  formed  on  dismissing  his  guide,  to 
proceed  immediately  to  the  fort,  there  in  person 
to  plead  our  case  and  necessities.  This  card  we 
missed,  though  it  was  afterward  found  by  those 
whom  we  had  left  at  Pimole  Tillage.  What  "  might 
have  been,"  could  our  eyes  have  fallen  upon  that 
small  piece  of  paper,  though  it  is  now  useless  to  con 
jecture,  cannot  but  recur  to  the  mind.  It  might 
have  preserved  fond  parents,  endeared  brothers  and 
sisters,  to  gladden  and  cheer  a  now  embittered  and 
bereft  existence.  But  the  card,  and  the  saddle  and 
packages  of  the  doctor,  we  saw  not  until  weeks  after, 
as  the  sequel  will  show,  though  we  spent  a  night  at 
the  same  camp  where  the  scenes  had  been  enacted. 

Toward  evening  of  the  eighteenth  day  of  March, 
we  reached  the  Gila  River,  at  a  point  over  eighty 
miles  from*  Pimole,  and  about  the  same  distance 
from  Fort  Yuma. 

We  descended  to  the  ford  from  a  high,  bluff  hill, 
and  found  it  leading  across  at  a  point  where  the  river 
armed,  leaving  a  small  island  sand-bar  in  the  middle 
of  the  stream.  WQ  frequently  found  places  on  our 
road  upon  which  the  sun  shines  not,  and  for  hours 
together  the  road  led  through  a  region  as  wild 
and  rough  as  the  imagination  ever  painted  any 
portion  of  our  earth.  It  was  impossible,  save  for 


72      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

a  few  steps  at  a  time,  to  see  at  a  distance  in  any 
direction ;  and  although  we  were  yet  inspirited  at 
seasons  with  the  report  of  Dr.  Lecount,  upon  which 
we  had  started,  yet  we  could  not  blind  our  eyes  or 
senses  to  the  possibilities  that  might  lurk  unseen  and 
near,  and  to  the  advantages  over  us  that  the  nature 
of  the  country  about  us  would  furnish  the  evil-de 
signing  foe  of  the  white  race,  whose  habitations  we 
knew  were  locked  up  somewhere  within  these  huge, 
irregular  mountain  ranges.  Much  less  could  we  be 
indifferent  to  the  probable  inability  of  our  teams  to 
bear  us  over  the  distance  still  separating  us  from  the 
place  and  stay  of  our  hope.  We  attempted  to  cross 
the  Gila  about  sunset ;  the  stream  was  rapid,  and 
swollen  to  an  unusual  width  and  depth.  After  strug 
gling  with  danger  and  every  possible  hinderance  un 
til  long  after  dark,  we  reached  the  sand  island  in  the 
middle  of  the  stream.  Here  our  teams  mired,  our 
wagon  dragged  heavily,  and  we  found  it  impossible 
to  proceed. 

"  After  reaching  the  center  and  driest  portion  of 
the  island,  with  the  wagon  mired  in  the  rear  of  us, 
we  proceeded  to  detach  the  teams,  and  as  best  we 
could  made  preparations  to  spend  the  night.  Well 
do  I  remember  the  forlorn  countenance  and  dejected 
and  jaded  appearance  of  my  father  as  he  started  to 
wade  the  lesser  branch  of  the  river  ahead  of  us  to 
gather  material  for  a  fire.  At  a  late  hour  of  that 
cold,  clear,  wind-swept  night,  a  camp-fire  was  struck, 


THE  APACHE  AXD  MOHAVE  INDIANS. 

and  our  shivering  group  encircled  it  to  await  the 
preparation  of  our  stinted  allowance.  At  times  the 
wind,  which  was  blowing  furiously  most  of  the  night, 
would  lift  the  slight  surges  of  the  Gila  quite  to  our 
camp-fire." 

Let  the  mind  of  the  reader  pause  and  ponder  upon 
the  situation  of  that  forlorn  family  at  this  time.  Still 
unattended  and  unbefriended ;  without  a  white  per 
son  or  his  habitation  within  the  wide  range  of  nearly 
a  hundred  miles ;  the  Gila,  a  branch  of  which  sep 
arated  them  from  either  shore,  keeping  up  a  cease 
less,  mournful  murmuring  through  the  entire  night; 
the  wild  wind,  as  it  swept  unheeding  by,  sighing 
among  the  distant  trees  and  rolling  along  the  forest 
of  mountain  peaks,  kept  up  a  perpetual  moan  solemn 
as  a  funeral  dirge.  The  imagination  can  but  faintly 
picture  the  feelings  of  those  fond  parents  upon  whom 
hung  such  a  fearful  responsibility  as  was  presented  to 
their  minds  and  thoughts  by  the  gathering  of  this  lit 
tle  loved  family  group  about  them. 

"  A  large  part  of  the  night  was  spent  by  the  chil 
dren  (for  sleep  we  could  not)  in  conversation  upon 
our  trying  situation;  the  dangers,  though  unseen, 
that  might  be  impending  over  our  heads ;  of  the 
past,  the  present,  and  the  cloud-wrapt  future ;  of  the 
perils  of  our  undertaking,  which  were  but  little  real 
ized  under  the  light  of  novelty  and  hope  that  inspired 
our  first  setting  out — an  undertaking  well-intentioned 
but  now  shaping  itself  so  rudely  and  unseemly. 


*74      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

"  We  were  compelled  frequently  to  shift  our  posi 
tion,  as  the  fickle  wind  would  change  the  point  at 
which  the  light  surges  of  the  Gila  would  attack  our 
camp-fire,  in  the  center  of  that  little  island  of  about 
two  hundred  square  feet,  upon  which  we  had  of 
necessity  halted  for  the  night.  While  our  parents 
were  in  conversation  a  little  apart,  which,  too,  they 
were  conducting  in  a  subdued  tone  for  purposes  of 
concealment,  the  curiosity  of  the  elder  children, 
restless  and  inquisitive,  was  employed  in  guessing  at 
the  probable  import  of  their  councils.  We  talked, 
with  the  artlessness  and  eagerness  of  our  un realizing 
age,  of  the  dangers  possibly  near  us,  of  the  advant 
age  that  our  situation  gave  to  the  savages,  who  were 
our  only  dread ;  and  each  in  his  or  her  turn  would 
speak,  as  we  shiveringly  gathered  around  that  little, 
threatened,  sickly  camp-fire,  of  his  or  her  intentions 
in  case  of  the  appearance  of  the  foe.  Each  had  to 
give  a  map  of  the  course  to  be  pursued  if  the  cruel 
Apaches  should  set  upon  us,  and  no  two  agreed ;  one 
saying,  c  I  shall  run ;'  another,  '  I  will  fight  and  die 
fighting ;'  and  still  another,  '  I  will  take  the  gun  or  a 
club  and  keep  them  off;'  and  last,  Miss  Olive  says, 
'Well,  there  is  one  thing;  I  shall  not  be  taken  by 
these  miserable  brutes.  I  will  fight  as  long  as  I  can, 
and  if  I  see  that  I  am  about  to  be  taken,  I  will  kill 
myself.  I  do  not  care  to  die,  but  it  would  be  worse 
than  death  to  me  to  be  taken  a  captive  among 
them.'" 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.  5 

How  apprehensive,  bow  timid,  how  frail  a  thing  is 
the  human  mind,  especially  when  yet  untutored,  and 
uninured  to  the  severe  allotments  that  are  in  this 
state  incident  to  lengthened  years.  Experience  alone 
can  test  the  wisdom  of  the  resolutions  with  which  we 
arm  ourselves  for  anticipated  trials,  or  our  ability  to 
carry  them  out.  How  little  it  knows  of  its  power  or 
skill  to  triumph  in  the  hour  of  sudden  and  trying 
emergency,  only  as  the  reality  itself  shall  test  and 
call  it  forth.  Olive  lives  to-day  to  dictate  a  narra 
tive  of  five  gloomy  years  of  captivity,  that  followed 
upon  a  totally  different  issue  of  an  event  that  during 
that  night,  as  a  possibility  merely,  was  the  matter  of 
vows  and  resolutions,  but  which  in  its  reality  mocked 
and  taunted  the  plans  and  purposes  that  had  been 
formed  for  its  control. 

"  The  longed-for  twilight  at  length  sent  its  earliest 
stray  beams  along  the  distant  peaks,  stole  in  upon 
our  sand-bar  camp,  and  gradually  lifted  the  darkness 
from  our  dreary  situation.  As  the  curtain  of  that 
burdensome  night  departed,  it  seemed  to  bear  with  it 
those  deep  and  awful  shades  that  had  rested  upon 
our  minds  during  its  stay,  and  which  we  now  began 
to  feel  had  taken  their  gloomiest  hue  from  the  literal 
darkness  and  solitude  that  has  a  strange  power  to 
nurse  a  morbid  apprehension. 

"  Before  us,  and  separating  the  shore  from  us,  was 
a  part  of  -the  river  yet  to  be  forded.  At  an  early 
hour  the  teams  were  brought  from  the  valley-neck  of 


76       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIKLS  AMONG 

land,  where  they  had  found  scant  pasturage  for  the 
night,  and  attached  to  the  wagon.  We  soon  made 
the  opposite  bank.  Before  us  was  quite  a  steep  de 
clivity  of  some  two  hundred  feet,  by  the  way  of  the 
road.  We  had  pj  oceeded  but  a  short  distance  when 
our  galled  and  disarranged  teams  refused  to  go.  We 
were  again  compelled  to  unload,  and  with  our  own 
hands  and  strength  to  bear  the  last  parcel  to  the  top 
of  the  hill.  After  this  we  found  it  next  to  impossible 
to  compel  the  teams  to  drag  the  empty  wagon  to  the 
summit. 

"After  reaching  the  other  bank  we  camped,  and 
remained  through  the  heat  of  the  day  intending  to 
travel  the  next  night  by  moonlight.  About  two 
hours  and  a  half  before  sunset  we  started,  and  just 
before  the  sun  sank  behind  the  western  hills  we  had 
made  the  ascent  of  the  hill  and  about  one  mile 
advance.  Here  we  halted  to  reload  the  remainder 
of  our  baggage. 

"The  entire  ascent  was  not  indeed  made  until  we 
reached  this  point,  and  to  it  some  of  our  baggage 
had  been  conveyed  by  hand.  I  now  plainly  saw  a 
sad,  foreboding  change  in  my  father's  manner  and 
feelings.  Hitherto,  amid  the  most  fatiguing  labor 
and  giant  difficulties,  he  had  seemed  generally  armed 
for  the  occasion  with  a  hopeful  countenance  and 
cheerful  spirit  and  manner,  the  very  sight  of  which 
had  a  power  to  dispel  our  childish  fears  and  spread 
contentment  and  resignation  upon  our  little  group. 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOIIAVE  INDIANS. 

While  ascending  this  hill  I  saw,  too  plainly  saw, 
(being  familiar,  young  as  I  was,  with  my  father's  apt 
ness  to  express,  by  the  tone  of  his  action  and  man 
ner,  his  mental  state,)  as  did  my  mother  also,  that  a 
change  had  come  over  him.  Disheartening  and 
soul-crushing  apprehensions  were  written  upon  his 
manner,  as  if  preying  upon  his  mind  in  all  the  mer- 
cilessness  of  a  conquering  despair.  There  seemed  to 
be  a  dark  picture  hung  up  before  him,  upon  which  the 
eye  of  his  thought  rested  with  a  monomaniac  inten 
sity  ;  and  written  thereon  he  seemed  to  behold  a  sad 
afterpart  for  himself,  as  if  some  terrible  event  had 
loomed  suddenly  upon  the  field  of  his  mental  vision, 
and  though  unprophesied  and  unheralded  by  any 
palpable  notice,  yet  gradually  wrapping  its  folds 
about  him,  and  coming  in,  as  it  were,  to  fill  his  cup 
of  anguish  to  the  brim.  Surely, 

"  '  Coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before  them. 
Who  hath  companioned  a  visit  from  the  horn  or  ivory  gate  ? 
Who  hath  propounded  the  law  that  renders  calamities  gregarious  ? 
Pressing  down  with  yet  more  woe  the  heavy  laden  mourner; 
Yea,  a  palpable  notice  warneth  of  an  instant  danger ; 
For  the  soul  hath  its  feelers,  cobwebs  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind, 
That  catch  events,  in  their  approach,  with  sure  and  sad  pre 
sentiment.' 

"  Whether  my  father  had  read  that  notice  left  for 
our  warning  by  Dr.  Lecount,  and  had  from  prudence 
concealed  it,  with  the  impression  it  may  have  made 
upon  his  own  mind,  from  us,  to  prevent  the  torment 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMONG 

of  fear  it  would  have  enkindled ;  or  whether  a  camp- 
fire  might  have  been  discerned  by  him  in  the  dis 
tance  the  night  before,  warning  of  the  nearness  of 
the  savage  Apaches ;  or  whether  by  spirit  law  or  the 
appointment  of  Providence  the  gloom  of  his  waiting 
doom  had  been  sent  on  before  to  set  his  mind  in 
readiness  for  the  breaking  storm,  are  questions  that 
have  been  indulged  and  involuntarily  urged  by  his 
fond,  bereaved  children;  but  no  answer  to  which  has 
broke  upon  their  ear  from  mountain,  from  dale,  or 
from  spirit-land.  For  one  hour  the  night  before  my 
father  had  wept  bitterly,  while  in  the  wagon  think 
ing  himself  concealed  from  his  family,  but  of  which 
I  was  ignorant  until  it  was  told  me  by  my  eldest 
sister  during  the  day.  My  mother  was  calm,  cool, 
and  collected ;  patient  to  endure,  and  diligent  to  do, 
that  she  might  administer  to  the  comfort  of  the  rest 
of  us.  Of  the  real  throbbings  of  the  affectionate  and 
indulgent  heart  of  that  beloved  mother,  her  children 
must  ever  remain  ignorant.  But  of  her  noble  bear 
ing  under  these  trying  circumstances  angels  might 
speak ;  and  her  children,  who  survive  to  cherish  her 
name  with  an  ardent,  though  sorrowing  affection, 
may  be  pardoned  for  not  keeping  silence.  True  to 
the  instincts  that  had  ever  governed  her  in  all  trying 
situations,  and  true  to  the  dictates  of  a  noble  and 
courageous  heart,  she  wisely  attributed  these  shadows 
(the  wing  of  which  flitted  over  her  own  sky  as  well) 
to  the  harassings  and  exhaustion  of  the  hour;  she 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.          79 

called  them  the  accustomed  creations  of  an  over 
tasked  mind,  and  then,  with  cheerful  heart  and  ready 
hand,  plied  herself  to  all  and  any  labors  that  might 
hie  us  upon  our  way.  At  one  time,  during  the 
severest  part  of  the  toil  and  efforts  of  that  day  to 
make  the  summit  of  that  hill,  my  father  suddenly 
sank  down  upon  a  stone  near  the  wagon,  and  ex 
claimed,  'Mother,  mother,  in  the  name  of  God,  I 
know  that  something  dreadful  is  about  to  happen !' 
In  reply,  our  dear  mother  had  no  expressions  but 
those  of  calm,  patient  trust,  and  a  vigorous,  resolute 
purpose. 

"  '  O,  Mother  ?  bless'd  sharer  of  our  joys  and  woes, 
E'en  in  the  darkest  hours  of  earthly  ill, 
Untarnish'd  yet  thy  fond  affection  glow'd, 
When  sorrow  rent  the  heart,  when  feverish  pain 
Wrung  the  hot  drops  of  anguish  from  the  brow  ; 
To  soothe  the  soul,  to  cool  the  burning  brain, 
0  who  so  welcome  and  so  prompt  as  thou  ?' 

"  We  found  ourselves  now  upon  the  summit,  which 
proved  to  be  the  east  edge  of  a  long  table-land, 
stretching  upon  a  level,  a  long  distance  westward, 
and  lying  between  two  deep  gorges,  one  on  the  right, 
the  other  on  the  left ;  the  former  coursed  by  the  Gila 
River.  We  had  hastily  taken  our  refreshment,  con 
sisting  of  a  few  parcels  of  dry  bread,  and  some  bean- 
soup,  preparatory  to  a  night's  travel.  This  purpose 
of  night  travel  had  been  made  out  of  mercy  to  our 
famished  teams,  so  weak  that  it  was  with  difficulty 


80     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN    GIRLS   AMONG 

they  could  be  driven  during  the  extreme  sultry  heat 
of  the  day.  Besides  this,  the  moon  was  nearly  in 
full,  giving  us  light  nearly  the  entire  night;  the 
nights  were  cool,  and  better  for  travel  to  man  and 
beast,  and  the  shortness  of  our  provisions  made  it 
imperative  that  we  should  make  the  most  of  our 
time." 

Up,  upon  an  elevated,  narrow  table-land,  formed 
principally  of  lime  rock,  look  now  at  this  family  ;  the 
scattered  rough  stones  about  them  forming  their  seats, 
upon  which  they  sit  them  down  in  haste  to  receive  the 
frugal  meal  to  strengthen  them  for  the  night's  travel. 
From  two  years  old  and  upward,  that  group  of 
children,  unconscious  of  danger,  but  dreading  the 
lone,  long  hours  of  the  night's  journey  before  them. 
To  the  south  of  them,  a  wild,  uninhabited,  and  unin 
habitable  region,  made  up  of  a  succession  of  table 
lands,  varying  in  size  and  in  height,  with  rough,  ver- 
dureless  sides,  and  separated  by  deep  gorges  and 
dark  canons,  without  any  vegetation  save  an 
occasional  scrub-tree  standing  out  from  the  general 
sterility.  Around  them,  not  a  green  spot  to  charm, 
to  cheer,  to  enliven  the  tame,  tasteless  desolation 
and  barrenness ;  at  the  foot  of  the  bold  elevation,  that 
gives  them  a  wider  view  than  was  granted  while 
winding  the  difficult  denies  of  the  crooked  road  left 
behind  them,  murmurs  on  the  ceaseless  Gila,  upon 
which  they  gaze,  over  a  bold  precipice  at  the  right. 
To  the  east  and  north,  mountain  ranges  rising  sky- 


THE    APACHE    AXD    3IOHAVE    INDIANS.  81 

ward  until  they  seem  to  lean  against  the  firmament. 
But  within  all  the  extended  field  swept  by  their 
curious,  anxious  vision,  no  smoking  chimney  of  a 
friendly  habitation  appears  to  temper  the  sense  of 
loneliness,  or  apprise  them  of  the  accessibleness  of 
friendly  sympathy  or  aid.  Before  them,  a  dusty, 
stony  road  points  to  the  scene  of  anticipated  hardships, 
and  tfye  land  of  their  destination.  The  sun  had 
scarcely  concealed  his  burning  face  behind  the  west 
ern  hills,  ere  the  full-orbed  moon  peers  from  the 
craggy  mountain  chain  in  the  rear,  as  if  to  mock 
at  the  sun  weltering  in  his  fading  gore,  and  prof 
fering  the  reign  of  her  chastened,  mellow  light  for 
the  whole  dreaded  night. 

''Though  the  sun  had  hid  its  glittering,  dazzling 
face  from  us  behind  a  tall  peak  in  the  distance,  yet 
its  rays  lingered  upon  the  summits  that  stretched 
away  between  us  and  the  moon,  and  daylight  was 
full  upon  us.  Our  hasty  meal  had  been  served. 
My  father,  sad,  and  seemingly  spell-bound  with 
his  own  struggling  emotions,  was  a  little  on  one 
side,  as  if  oblivious  of  all  immediately  about  him, 
and  was  about  in  the  act  of  lifting  some  of  the 
baggage  to  the  wagon,  that  had  as  yet  remained 
unloaded  since  the  ascent  of  the  hill,  when,  casting 
my  eyes  down  the  hill  by  the  way  we  had  come,  I 
saw  several  Indians  slowly  and  leisurely  approaching 
us  in  the  road.  I  was  greatly  alarmed,  and  for  a 
moment  dared  not  to  speak.  At  the  time,  my 


82      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS   AMONG- 

father's  back  was  turned.  I  spoke  to  him,  at  the 
same  time  pointing  to  the  Indians.  What  I  saw  in 
my  father's  countenance  excited  in  me  a  great  fear, 
and  took  a  deeper  hold  upon  my  feelings  of  the  danger 
we  were  in,  than  the  sight  of  the  Indians.  They  were 
now  approaching  near  us.  The  blood  rushed  to  my 
father's  face.  For  a  moment  his  face  would  burn 
and  flash  as  it  crimsoned  with  the  tide  from  within  ; 
then  a  death-like  paleness  would  spread  over  his 
countenance,  as  if  his  whole  frame  was  suddenly 
stiffened  with  horror.  I  saw  too  plainly  the  effort 
that  it  cost  him  to  attempt  a  concealment  of  his 
emotions.  He  succeeded,  however,  in  controlling  the 
jerking  of  his  muscles  and  his  mental  agitations,  so 
as  to  tell  us,  in  mild  and  composed  accents,  'not  to 
fear ;  the  Indians  would  not  harm  us.'  He  had 
always  been  led  to  believe  that  the  Indians  could  be 
so  treated  as  to  avoid  difficulty  with  them.  He  had 
been  among  them  much  in  the  Western  states,  and  so 
often  tried  his  theory  of  leniency  with  success  that  he 
often  censured  the  whites  for  their  severity  toward 
them  ;  and  was  disposed  to  attribute  injury  received 
from  them  to  the  unwise  and  cruel  treatment  of  them 
by  the  whites.  It  had  long  been  his  pride  and  boast 
that  he  could  manage  the  Indians  so  that  it  would  do 
to  trust  them.  Often  had  he  thrown  himself  wholly 
in  their  power,  while  traveling  and  doing  business  in 
Iowa,  and  that,  too,  in  times  of  excitement  and  hos 
tility,  relying  upon  his  coolness,  self-possession,  and 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.          83 

urbanity  toward  them  to  tame  and  disarm  their 
ferocity.  As  yet,  his  theory  had  worked  no  injury  to 
himself,  though  often  practiced  against  the  remon 
strances  of  friends.  But  what  might  serve  for  the 
treatment  of  the  Iowa  Indians,  might  need  modifi 
cation  for  these  fierce  Apaches.  Besides,  his  wonted 
coolness  and  fearlessness  seemed,  as  the  Indians  ap 
proached,  to  have  forsaken  him  ;  and  I  have  never 
been  able  to  account  for  the  conduct  of  my  father  at 
this  time,  only  by  reducing  to  reality  the  seemings  of 
the  past  few  days  or  hours,  to  wit,  that  a  dark  doom 
had  been  written  out  or  read  to  him  before. 

"After  the  Indians  approached,  he  became  col 
lected,  and  kindly  motioned  them  to  sit  down ;  spoke 
to  them  in  Spanish,  to  which  they  replied.  They 
immediately  sat  down  upon  the  stones  about  us,  and 
still  conversing  with  father  in  Spanish,  made  the  most 
vehement  professions  of  friendship.  They  asked  for 
tobacco  and  a  pipe,  that  they  might  smoke  in  token 
of  their  sincerity  and  of  their  friendly  feelings  toward 
us.  This  my  father  immediately  prepared,  took 
a  whiff  himself,  then  passed  it  around,  even  to  the 
last.  But  amid  all  this,  the  appearance  and  conduct 
of  father  was  strange.  The  discerning  and  interested 
eye  of  his  agitated  family  could  too  plainly  discover 
the  uncontrollable,  unspoken  mental  convulsions  that 
would  steal  the  march  upon  the  forced  appearances 
of  composure  that  his  better  judgment,  as  well  as 
yearnings  for  his  family,  dictated  for  the  occasion. 


84      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

His  movements  were  a  reflecting  glass,  in  which  we 
could  as  plainly  read  some  dire  catastrophe  was 
breeding  for  us,  as  well  as  in  the  flashes  and  glances 
that  flew  from  face  to  face  of  our  savage-looking 
visitants. 

"  After  smoking,  these  Indians  asked  for  something 
to  eat.  Father  told  them  of  our  destitute  condition, 
and  that  he  could  not  feed  them  without  robbing  his 
family ;  that  unless  we  could  soon  reach  a  place  of 
new  supplies  we  must  suffer.  To  all  this  they 
seemed  to  yield  only  a  reluctant  hearing.  They  be 
came  earnest  and  rather  imperative,  and  every  plea 
that  we  made  to  them  of  our  distress,  but  increased 
their  wild  and  furious  clamors.  Father  reluctantly 
took  some  bread  from  the  wagon  and  gave  it  to 
them,  saying  that  it  was  robbery,  and  perhaps  star 
vation  to  his  family.  As  soon  as  this  was  devoured 
they  asked  for  more,  meanwhile  surveying  us  nar 
rowly,  and  prying  and  looking  into  every  part  of  the 
wagon.  They  were  told  that  we  could  spare  them  no 
more.  They  immediately  packed  themselves  into  a 
secret  council  a  little  on  one  side,  which  they  con 
ducted  in  the  Apache  language,  wholly  unintelligible 
to  us.  We  were  totally  in  the  dark  as  to  their  de 
signs,  save  that  their  appearance  and  actions  wore 
the  threatening  of  some  hellish  deed.  We  were  now 
about  ready  to  start.  Father  had  again  returned  to 
complete  the  reloading  of  the  remainder  of  the  arti 
cles  ;  mother  was  in  the  wagon  arranging  them ; 


THE   APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE   INDIANS.  85 

Olive,  with  my  older  sister,  was  standing  upon  the 
opposite  side  of  the  wagon ;  Mary  Ann,  a  little  girl 
about  seven  years  old,  sat  upon  a  stone  holding  to  a 
rope  attached  to  the  horns  of  the  foremost  team ; 
the  rest  of  the  children  were  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  wagon  from  the  Indians.  My  eyes  were  turned 
away  from  the  Indians. 

Though  each  of  the  family  was  engaged  in  repairing 
the  wagon,  none  were  without  manifestations  of  fear. 
For  some  time  every  movement  of  the  Indians  was 
closely  watched  by  us.  I  well  remember,  however, 
that  after  a  few  moments  my  own  fears  were  partially 
quieted,  and  from  their  appearance  I  judged  it  was 
so  with  the  rest. 

In  a  subdued  tone  frequent  expressions  were  made 
concerning  the  Indians,  and  their  possible  intentions ; 
but  we  were  guarded  and  cautious,  lest  they  might 
understand  our  real  dread  and  be  emboldened  to 
violence.  Several  minutes  did  they  thus  remain  a 
few  feet  from  us,  occasionally  turning  an  eye  upon 
us,  and  constantly  keeping  up  a  low  earnest  babbling 
among  themselves.  At  times  they  gazed  eagerly  in 
various  directions,  especially  down  the  road  by  which 
we  had  come,  as  if  struggling  to  discern  the  approach 
of  some  object  or  person  either  dreaded  or  expected 
by  them. 

"  Suddenly,  as  a  clap  of  thunder  from  a  clear  sky, 
a  defeaning  yell  broke  upon  us,  the  Indians  jumping 
into  the  air,  and  uttering  the  most  frightful  shrieks, 


86       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

and  at  the  same  time  springing  toward  us  flourishing 
their  war- clubs,  which  had  hitherto  been  concealed 
under  their  wolf-skins.  I  was  struck  upon  the  top 
and  back  of  my  head,  carne  to  my  knees,  when  with 
another  blow,  I  was  struck  blind  and  senseless/' 
One  of  their  number  seized  and  jerked  Olive  one 
side,  ere  they  had  dealt  the  first  blow. 

"As  soon,"  continues  Olive,  "as  they  had  taken 
me  one  side,  and  while  one  of  the  Indians  was  lead 
ing  me  off,  I  saw  them  strike  Lorenzo,  and  almost  at 
the  same  instant  my  father  also.  I  was  so  bewildered 
and  taken  by  surprise  by  the  suddenness  of  their 
movements,  and  their  deafening  yells,  that  it  was 
some  little  time  before  I  could  realize  the  horrors  of 
my  situation.  When  I  turned  around,  opened  my 
eyes,  and  collected  my  thoughts,  I  saw  my  father,  my 
own  dear  father !  struggling,  bleeding,  and  moaning 
in  the  most  pitiful  manner.  Lorenzo  was  lying  with 
his  face  in  the  dust,  the  top  of  his  head  covered  with 
blood,  and  his  ears  and  mouth  bleeding  profusely.  I 
looked  around  and  saw  my  poor  mother,  with  her 
youngest  child  clasped  in  her  arms,  and  both  of  them 
still,  as  if  the  work  of  death  had  already  been  com 
pleted  ;  a  little  distance  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
wagon,  stood  little  Mary  Ann,  with  her  face  covered 
with  her  hands,  sobbing  aloud,  and  a  huge- 
looking  Indian  standing  over  her;  the  rest 
were  motionless,  save  a  younger  brother  and  my 
father,  all  upon  the  ground  dead  or  dying.  At  this 


*   THE   APACHE    AND    MOIIAYE    INDIANS.  87 

sight  a  thrill  of  icy  coldness  passed  over  me;  I 
thought  I  had  been  struck ;  my  thoughts  began  to 
reel  and  became  irregular  and  confused ;  I  fainted 
and  sank  to  the  earth,  and  for  a  while,  I  know  not 
how  long,  I  was  insensible. 

"  When  I  recovered  my  thoughts  I  could  hardly 
realize  where  I  was,  though  I  remembered  to  have 
considered  myself  as  having  also  been  struck  to  the 
earth,  and  thought  I  was  probably  dying.  I  knew 
that  all,  or  nearly  all  of  the  family  had  been  mur 
dered  ;  thus  bewildered,  confused,  half  conscious  and 
and  half  insensible,  I  remained  a  short  time,  I  know 
not  how  long,  when  suddenly  I  seemed  awakened  to 
the  dreadful  realities  around  me.  My  little  sister 
was  standing  by  my  side,  sobbing  and  crying,  say 
ing  :  '  Mother,  O  mother !  Olive,  mother  and  father 
are  killed,  with  all  our  poor  brothers  and  sisters.'  I 
could  no  longer  look  upon  the  scene.  Occasionally 
a  low,  piteous  moan  would  come  from  some  one  of 
the  family  as  in  a  dying  state.  I  distinguished  the 
groans  of  my  poor  mother,  and  sprang  wildly 
toward  her,  but  was  held  back  by  the  merciless  sav 
age  holding  me  in  his  cruel  grasp,  and  lifting  a  club 
over  my  head,  threatening  me  in  the  most  taunting, 
barbarous  manner.  I  longed  to  have  him  put  an  end 
to  my  life.  '  O,'  thought  I,  '  must  I  know  that  my  poor 
parents  have  been  killed  by  these  savages  and  I  re 
main  alive !'  I  asked  them  to  kill  me,  pleaded  with 
them  to  take  my  life,  but  all  my  pleas  and  prayers 


88       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

only  excited  to  laughter  and  taunts  the  two  wretches 
to  whose  charge  we  had  been  committed. 

"  After  these  cruel  brutes  had  consummated  their 
work  of  slaughter,  which  they  did  in  a  few  moments, 
they  then  commenced  to  plunder  our  wagon,  and  the 
persons  of  the  family  whom  they  had  killed.  They 
broke  open  the  boxes  with  stones  and  clubs,  plun 
dering  them  of  such  of  their  contents  as  they  could 
make  serviceable  to  themselves.  They  took  off  the 
wagon  wheels,  or  a  part  of  them,  tore  the  wagon  cov 
ering  off  from  its  frame,  unyoked  the  teams  and  de 
tached  them  from  the  wagons,  and  commenced  to 
pack  the  little  food,  with  many  articles  of  their  plun 
der,  as  if  preparatory  to  start  on  a  long  journey. 
Coming  to  a  feather  bed,  they  seized  it,  tore  it  open, 
scattering  its  contents  to  the  winds,  manifesting 
meanwhile  much  wonder  and  surprise,  as  if  in  doubt 
what  certain  articles  of  furniture,  and  conveniences 
for  the  journey  we  had  with  us,  could  be  intended  for. 
Such  of  these  as  they  selected,  with  the  little  food  we 
had  with  us  that  they  could  conveniently  pack,  they 
tied  up  in  bundles,  and  started  down  the  hill  by  the 
way  they  had  come,  driving  us  on  before  them.  We 
descended  the  hill,  not  knowing  their  intentions  con 
cerning  us,  but  under  the  expectation  that  they 
would  probably  take  our  lives  by  slow  torture. 
After  we  had  descended  the  hill  and  crossed  the 
river,  and  traveled  about  one  half  of  a  mile  by  a 
dim  trail  leading  through  a  dark,  rough,  and  narrow 


THE   APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIANS.          89 

defile  in  the  hills,  we  came  to  an  open  place  where 
there  had  been  an  Indian  camp  before,  and  halted. 
The  Indians  took  off  their  packs,  struck  a  fire,  and 
.began  in  their  own  way  to  make  preparations  for  a 
meal.  They  boiled  some  of  the  beans  just  from  our 
wagon,  mixed  some  flour  with  water,  and  baked  it  in 
the  ashes.  They  offered  us  some  food,  but  in  the 
most  insulting  and  taunting  manner,  continually  mak 
ing  merry  over  every  indication  of  grief  in  us,  and 
with  which  our  hearts  were  ready  to  break.  "We 
could  not  eat.  After  the  meal,  and  about  an  hour's 
rest,  they  began  to  repack  and  make  preparations  to 
proceed. 


90       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 


CHAPTER  III. 

Lorenzo  Oatman  —  Conscious  of  most  of  the  Scenes  of  the  Massacre  — 
The  next  Day  he  finds  himself  at  the  Foot  of  a  rocky  Declivity,  over 
which  he  had  fallen  — Makes  an  Effort  to  walk  — Starts  for  Pimole  — 
His  Feelings  and  Sufferings  —  Is  attacked  by  Wolves  —  Then  by  two 
Indians,  who  are  about  to  shoot  him  down  —  Their  subsequent  Kind 
ness—They  go  on  to  the  Place  of  Massacre  — He  meets  the  Wil- 
ders  and  Kellys  —  They  take  him  back  to  Pimole  —  In  about  one 
Month  gets  well,  and  starts  for  Fort  Yuma — Visits  the  Place  of  Mas 
sacre—His  Feelings  — Burial,  of  the  Dead— Eeflections  —  The  two 
Girls  — Their  Thoughts  of  Home  and  Friends  — Conduct  of  their  Cap 
tors—Disposition  of  the  Stock— Cruelty  to  the  Girls  to  hurry  them 
on  —  Girls  resolve  not  to  proceed  —  Meet  eleven  Indians,  who  seek  to 
kill  Olive—  Seasons  for  —Apaches  defend  her— Their  Habits  of 
Fear  for  their  own  Safety— Their  Eeception  at  the  Apache  Village  — 
One  Year — The  Mohaves  —  Their  second  coming  among  the  Apaches 
—  Conversation  of  Olive  and  Mary  —  Purchased  by  the  Mohaves  — 
Avowed  Eeasons  — Their  Price  — Danger  during  the  Debate. 

IN  this  chapter  we  ask  the  reader  to  trace  with  us  the 
narrow  and  miraculous  escape  of  Lorenzo  Oatman, 
after  being  left  for  dead  by  the  Apaches.  He  was  the 
first  to  receive  the  death-dealing  blow  of  the  perpetra 
tors  of  that  horrid  deed  by  which  most  of  the  family 

were  taken  from  him.     The  last  mention  we  made  of 

\ 

him  left  him,  under  the  effects  of  that  blow,  weltering 
in  his  blood.  He  shall  tell  his  own  story  of  the 
dreadful  after-part.  It  has  in  it  a  candor,  a  freedom 
from  the  tinselings  so  often  borrowed  from  a  morbid 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.       91 

imagination,  and  thrown  about  artificial  romance, 
that  commends  it  to  the  reader,  especially  to  the 
juvenile  reader.  It  exhibits  a  presence  of  mind, 
courage,  and  resoluteness  that,  as  an  example,  may 
serve  as  a  light  to  cheer  and  inspirit  that  boy  whose 
eye  is  now  tracing  this  record,  when  he  shall  find 
himself  stumbling  amid  mishaps  and  pitfalls  in  the 
future,  and  when  seasons  of  darkness,  like  the  deep, 
deep  midnight,  shall  close  upon  his  path  : 

"  I  soon  must  have  recovered  my  consciousness 
after  I  had  been  struck  down,  for  I  heard  distinctly 
the  repeated  yells  of  those  fiendish  Apaches.  And 
these  I  heard  mingling  in  the  most  terrible  confusion 
with  the  shrieks  and  cries  of  my  dear  parents, 
brothers,  and  sisters,  calling,  in  the  most  pitiful, 
heart-rending  tones,  for  4  Help,  help !  In  the  name 
of  God,  cannot  any  one  help  us  ?? 

"  To  this  day  the  loud  wail  sent  up  by  our  dear 
mother  from  that  rough  death-bed  still  rings  in  my 
ears.  I  heard  the  scream,  shrill,  and  sharp,  and 
long,  of  these  defenseless,  unoffending  brothers  and 
sisters,  distinguishing  the  younger  from  the  older  as 
well  as  I  could  have  done  by  their  natural  voice ; 
and  these  constantly  blending  with  the  brutal,  coarse 
laugh,  and  the  wild,  raving  whooping  of  their  mur 
derers.  Well  do  I  remember  coming  to  myself,  with 
sensations  as  of  waking  from  a  long  sleep,  but  which 
soon  gave  place  to  the  dreadful  reality ;  at  which 
time  all  would  be  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  the 


92       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMONG 

silence  broken  by  the  low,  subdued,  but  unintelligi 
ble  gibberings  of  the  Indians,  intermingled  with  an 
occasional  low,  faint  moan  from  some  one  of  the 
family,  as  if  in  the  last  agonies  of  death.  I  could  not 
move.  I  thought  of  trying  to  get  up,  but  found  I 
could  not  command  a  muscle  or  a  nerve.  I  heard 
their  preparations  for  leaving,  and  distinctly  remem 
ber  to  have  thought,  at  the  time,  that  my  heart  had 
ceased  to  beat,  and  that  I  was  about  giving  my  last 
breath.  I  heard  the  sighs  and  moans  of  my  sisters, 
heard  them  speak,  knew  the  voice  of  Olive,  but  could 
not  tell  whether  one  or  more  was  preserved  with 
her. 

"  While  lying  in  this  state,  two  of  the  wretches 
came  up  to  me,  rolling  me  over  with  their  feet ;  they 
examined  and  rifled  my  pockets,  took  off  my  shoes 
and  hat  in  a  hurried  manner ;  then  laid  hold  of  my 
feet  and  roughly  dragged  me  a  short  distance,  and 
then  seemed  to  leave  me  for  dead.  During  all  this, 
except  for  a  moment  at  a  time,  occasionally,  I  was 
perfectly  conscious,  but  could  not  see.  I  thought 
each  moment  would  be  my  last.  I  tried  to  move 
again  and  again,  but  was  under  the  belief  that  life 
had  gone  from  my  body  and  limbs,  and  that  a  few 
more  breathings  would  shut  up  my  senses.  There 
seemed  a  light  spot  directly  over  my  head,  which 
was  gradually  growing  smaller,  dwindling  to  a  point. 
During  this  time  I  was  conscious  of  emotions  and 
thoughts  peculiar  and  singular,  aside  from  their  rela- 


THE   APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIANS.          93 

tion  to  the  horrors  about  me.  At  one  time  (and  it 
seemed  hours)  I  was  ranging  through  undefined, 
open  space,  with  paintings  and  pictures  of  all  imagin 
able  sizes  and  shapes  hung  about  me,  as  if  at  an 
immense  distance,  and  suspended  upon  walls  of 
ether.  At  another,  strange  and  discordant  sounds 
would  grate  on  my  ear,  so  unlike  any  that  my  ear 
ever  caught,  that  it  would  be  useless  endeavoring  to 
give  a  description  of  them.  Then  these  would 
gradually  die  away,  and  there  rolled  upon  my  ear 
such  strains  of  sweet  music  as  completely  ravished 
all  my  thoughts,  and  I  was  perfectly  happy.  And 
in  all  this  I  could  not  define  myself ;  I  knew  not  who 
I  was,  save  that  I  knew,  or  supposed  I  knew,  I  had 
come  from  some  far-off  region,  only  a  faint  remem 
brance  of  which  was  borne  along  with  me.  But  to 
attempt  to  depict  all  of  what  seemed  a  strange, 
actual  experience,  and  that  I  now  know  to  have  been 
crowded  into  a  few  hours,  would  only  excite  ridicule ; 
though  there  was  something  so  fascinating  and 
absorbing  to  my  engaged  mind,  that  I  frequently 
long  to  reproduce  its  unearthly  music  and  sights. 

"  After  being  left  by  the  Indians,  the  thoughts  I 
had,  traces  of  which  are  still  in  my  memory,  were  of 
opening  my  eyes,  knowing  perfectly  my  situation, 
and  thinking  still  that  each  breath  would  be  the  last. 
The  full  moon  was  shining  upon  rock,  and  hill,  and 
shrub  about  me ;  a  more  lovely  evening  indeed  I 
never  witnessed.  I  made  an  effort  to  turn  my  eye  in 


94       CAPTIVITY  Or  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

search  of  the  place  where  I  supposed  my  kindred 
were  cold  in  death,  but  could  not  stir.  I  felt  the 
blood  upon  my  month,  and  found  it  still  flowing 
from  my  ears  and  nose.  All  was  still  as  the  grave. 
Of  the  fate  of  the  rest  of  the  family  I  could  not  now 
determine  accurately  to  myself,  but  supposed  all  of 
them,  except  two  of  the  girls,  either  dead  or  in  my 
situation.  But  no  sound,  no  voice  broke  the  stillness 
of  these  few  minutes  of  consciousness ;  though  upon 
them  there  rested  the  weight  of  an  anguish,  the  tor 
ture  and  horror  of  which  pen  cannot  report.  I  had  a 
clear  knowledge  that  two  or  more  of  my  sisters  were 
taken  away  alive.  Olive  I  saw  them  snatch  one  side 
ere  they  commenced  the  general  slaughter,  and  I  had 
a  faint  consciousness  of  having  heard  the  voice  and 
sighs  of  little  Mary  Ann,  after  all  else  was  hushed, 
save  the  hurrying  to  and  fro  of  the  Indians,  while  at 
their  work  of  plunder. 

"  The  next  period,  the  recollection  of  which  con 
veys  any  distinct  impression  to  my  mind  at  this 
distance  of  time,  was  of  again  coming  to  myself, 
blind,  but  thinking  my  eyes  were  some  way  tied 
from  without.  As  I  rubbed  them,  and  removed  the 
clotted  blood  from  my  eyelids,  I  gathered  strength  to 
open  them.  The  sun,  seemingly  from  mid-heaven, 
was  looking  me  full  in  the  face.  My  head  was  beat 
ing,  and  at  times  reeling  under  the  grasp  of  a  most 
torturing  pain.  I  looked  at  my  worn  and  tattered 
clothes,  and  they  were  besmeared  with  blood.  I  felt 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.  95 

my  head  and  found  my  scalp  torn  across  the  top. 
I  found  I  had  strength  to  turn  my  head,  and  it  sur 
prised  me.  I  made  an  effort  to  get  up,  and  suc 
ceeded  in  rising  to  my  hands  and  knees ;  but  then  my 
strength  gave  way.  I  saw  myself  at  the  foot  of  a 
steep,  rugged  declivity  of  rocks,  and  all  about  me 
new.  On  looking  up  upon  the  rocks  I  discovered 
traces  of  blood  marking  the  way  by  which  I  had 
reached  my  present  situation  from  the  brow  above 
me.  At  seasons  there  would  be  a  return  of  par 
tial  aberration,  and  derangement  of  my  intellect. 
Against  these  I  sought  to  brace  myself,  and  study 
the  where  and  wherefore  of  my  awful  situation. 
And  I  wish  to  record  my  gratitude  to  God  for 
enabling  me  then  and  there  to  collect  my  thoughts, 
and  retain  my  sanity. 

"  I  soon  determined  in  my  inind  that  I  had  either 
fallen,  or  been  hurled  down  to  my  present  position, 
from  the  place  where  I  was  first  struck  down.  At 
first  I  concluded  I  had  fallen  myself,  as  I  remembered 
to  have  made  several  efforts  to  get  upon  my  hands 
and  knees,  hut  was  baffled  each  time,  and  that  during 
this  I  saw  myself  near  a  precipice  of  rocks,  like  that 
brow  of  the  steep  near  me  now,  and  that  I  plainly 
recognized  as  the  same  place,  and  now  sixty  feet  or 
more  above  me.  My  consciousness  now  fully  re 
turned,  and  with  it  a  painful  appreciation  of  the 
dreadful  tragedies  of  which  my  reaching  my  present 
situation  had  formed  a  part.  I  dwelt  upon  what  had 


96       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

overtaken  my  family-kin,  and  though  I  had  no  cer 
tain  mode  of  determining,  yet  I  concluded  it  must 
have  been  the  day  before.  Especially  would  my 
heart  beat  toward  my  fond  parents,  and  dwell  upon 
their  tragical  and  awful  end :  I  thought  of  the  weary 
weeks  and  months  by  which  they  had,  at  the  dint  of 
every  possible  exertion,  borne  us  to  this  point;  of 
the  comparatively  short  distance  that  wTould  have 
placed  them  beyond  anxiety ;  of  the  bloody,  horrid 
night  that  had  closed  in  upon  the  troublous  day  of 
their  lives. 

u  And  then  my  thoughts  wrould  wander  after  those 
dear  sisters ;  and  scarcely  could  I  retain  steadiness  of 
mind  when  I  saw  them,  in  thought,  led  away  I  knew 
not  where,  to  undergo  every  ill  and  hardship,  to  suffer 
a  thousand  deaths  at  the  hands  of  their  heathen  cap 
tors.  I  thought  at  times  (being,  I  have  no  doubt, 
partially  delirious)  that  my  brain  was  loose,  and  wras 
keeping  up  a  constant  rattling  in  my  head,  and 
accordingly  I  pressed  my  head  tightly  between  my 
hands,  that  if  possible  I  might  retain  it  to  gather  a 
resolution  for  my  own  escape.  When  di<J  so  much 
crowd  into  so  small  a  space  or  reflection  before? 
Friends,  that  were,  now  re-presented  themselves ;  but 
from  them,  now,  my  most  earnest  implorings  for 
help  brought  out  no  hand  of  relief;  and  as  I  viewed 
them,  surrounded  with  the  pleasures  and  joys  of  their 
safe  home-retreats,  the  contrast  only  plunged  me 
deeper  in  despair.  My  old  playmates  now  danced 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.          97 

before  me  again,  those  with  whom  I  had  caroled 
away  the  hours  so  merrily,  and  whom  I  had  bidden 
the  laughing,  merry  '  adieu?  only  pitying  them  that 
they  were  denied  the  elysium  of  a  romantic  trip  over 
the  Plains.  The  scenes  of  sighs,  and  tears,  and 
regrets  that  shrouded  the  hour  of  our  departure  from 
kindred  and  friends,  and  the  weeping  appeals  they 
plied  so  earnestly  to  persuade  us  to  desist  from  an 
undertaking  so  freighted  with  hazard,  now  rolled 
upon  me  to  lacerate  and  torture  these  moments  of 
suffocating  gaspings  for  breath. 

"  Then  my  own  condition  would  come  up,  with 
new  views  of  the  unbroken  gloom  and  despair  that 
walled  it  in  on  every  side,  more  impenetrable  to  the 
first  ray  of  hope  than  the  granite  bulwarks  about 
me  to  the  light  of  the  sun. 

"  A  boy  of  fourteen  years,  with  the  mangled  re 
mains  of  my  own  parents  lying  near  by,  my  scalp  torn 
open,  my  person  covered  with  blood,  alone,  friend 
less,  in  a  wild,  mountain,  dismal,  wilderness  region, 
exposed  to  the  ravenous  beasts,  and  more,  to  the 
ferocity  of  more  than  brutal  savages  and  human- 
shaped  demons!  I  had  no  strength  to  walk,  my 
spirits  crushed,  my  ambition  paralyzed,  my  body 
mangled.  At  times  I  despaired,  and  prayed  for 
death;  again  I  revived,  and  prayed  God  for  help. 
Sometimes,  while  lying  flat  on  my  back,  my  hands 
pressing  my  torn  and  blood-clothed  head,  with  the  hot 
sun  pouring  a  full  tide  of  its  unwelcome  heat  upon 


98       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIKLS  AMONG 

me,  the  very  air  a  hot  breath  in  my  face,  I  gathered 
hope  that  I  might  yet  look  upon  the  white  face 
again,  and  that  I  might  live  to  rehearse  the  sad 
present  in  years  to  come.  And  thus  bright  flashes 
of  hope  and  dark  gloom-clouds  would  chase  each 
other  over  the  sky  of  my  spirit,  as  if  playing  with  my 
abandonment  and  unmitigated  distress.  'And  O,' 
thought  I,  *  those  sisters,  shall  I  see  them  again  ? 
must  they  close  their  eyes  among  those  ferocious 
man-animals?'  I  grew  sick  and  faint,  dizziness 
shook  my  brain,  and  my  senses  fled.  I  again  awoke 
from  the  delirium,  partly  standing,  and  making  a  des 
perate  effort.  I  felt  the  thrill  of  a  strong  resolution. 
'  I  will  get  up,'  said  I,  '  and  will  walk,  or  if  not  I 
will  spend  the  last  remnant  of  my  shattered  strength 
to  crawl  out  of  this  place.'  I  started,  and  slowly 
moved  toward  the  rocks  above  me.  I  crept,  snail- 
like,  up  the  rock-stepped  side  of  the  table-land  above 
me.  As  I  drew  near  the  top,  having  crawled  almost 
fifty  feet,  I  came  in  sight  of  the  wagon  wreck ;  then 
the  scenes  which  had  been  wrought  about  it  came 
back  with  horror,  and  nearly  unloosed  my  hold  upon 
the  rocks.  I  could  not  look  upon  those  faces  and 
forms,  yet  they  were  within  a  few  feet.  The  boxes, 
opened  and  broken,  with  numerous  articles,  were  in 
sight.  I  could  not  trust  my  feelings  to  go  further; 
'  I  have  misery  enough,  why  should  I  add  fuel  to 
the  fire  now  already  consuming  me !' 

"I  turned  away,  and  began  to  crawl  toward  the 


THE  APACHE  AND   MOHAVE   INDIANS. 


99 


RETUEXIXG   TO  THE  PLACE  OF  MASSACRE. 

east,  round  the  brow  of  the  hill.  After  carefully, 
and  with  much  pain,  struggling  all  the  while  against 
faintness,  crawling  some  distance,  I  found  myself  at 
the  slope  leading  down  to  the  Ford  of  the  Gila, 
where  I  plainly  saw  the  wagon  track  we  had  made, 
as  I  supposed,  the  day  before.  The  hot  sun  affected 
me  painfully ;  its  burning  rays  kindled  my  fever, 
already  oppressive,  to  the  boiling  point.  I  felt  a 
giant  determination  urging  me  on.  Frequently  my 
weariness  and  faintness  would  bring  me  to  the  ground 


100     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMONG 

several  times  in  a  few  moments.  Then  I  would  crawl 
aside,  (as  I  did  immediately. after  crossing  the  river,) 
drag  myself  under  some  mountain  shrub  for  escape 
from  the  sun,  bathe  my  fevered  head  in  its  friendly 
shade,  and  lay  me  to  rest.  Faint  as  I  was  from  loss 
of  blood,  and  a  raging  inward  thirst,  these,  even, 
were  less  afflicting  than  the  meditations  and  reflec 
tions  that,  unbidden,  would  at  times  steal  upon  my 
mind,  and  lash  it  to  a  perfect  phrenzy  with  agonizing 
remembrances.  The  groans  of  those  parents,  broth 
ers,  and  sisters,  haunted  me  with  the  grim,  h' end-like 
faces  of  their  murderers,  and  the  flourishing  of  their 
war-clubs ;  the  convulsive  throbs  of  little  Mary  Ann 
would  fill  my  mind  with  sensations  as  dreary  as  if 
my  traveling  had  been  among  the  tombs. 

"<O  my  God!'  said  I,  'am  I  alive?  My  poor 
father  and  mother,  where  are  they?  And  are  my 
sisters  alive?  or  are  they  suffering  death  by  burning? 
Shall  I  see  them  again  ?' 

"Thus  I  cogitated,  and  wept,  and  sighed,  until 
sleep  kindly  shut  out  the  harrowing  thoughts.  I 
must  have  slept  for  three  hours,  for  when  I  woke  the 
sun  was  behind  the  western  hills.  I  felt  refreshed, 
though  suffering  still  from  thirst.  The  road  crosses 
the  bend  in  the  river  twice ;  to  avoid  this,  I  made 
my  way  ovqr  the  bluff  spur  that  turns  the  road  and 
river  to  the  north.  I  succeeded  after  much  effort  in 
sustaining  myself  upon  my  feet,  with  a  cane.  I 
walked  slowly  on,  and  gained  strength  and  courage 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         101 

that  inspired  within  some  hope  of  my  escape.  I  trav 
eled  on,  only  taking  rest  two  or  three  times  during 
that  evening  and  whole  night.  I  made  in  all  about 
fifteen  miles  by  the  next  day-break.  About  eleven 
o'clock  of  the  next  day  I  came  to  a  pool  of  standing 
water;  I  was  nearly  exhausted  when  I  reached  it 
and  lay  me  down  by  it,  and  drank  freely,  though  the 
water  was  warm  and  muddy.  I  had  no  sooner  slaked 
my  thirst  than  I  fell  asleep  and  slept  for  some  time. 
I  awoke  partially  delirious,  believing  that  my  brain 
was  trying  to  jump  out  of  my  head,  wThile  my  hands 
were  pressed  to  my  head  to  keep  it  together,  and 
prevent  the  exit  of  my  excited  brain.  "When  I  had 
proceeded  about  ten  miles,  which  I  had  made  by  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon,  I  suddenly  became  faint,  my 
strength  failed,  and  I  fell  to  the  ground.  I  was  at 
the  time  upon  a  high  table-land,  sandy  and  barren. 
I  marveled  to  know  whether  I  might  be  dying;  I 
was  soon  unconscious.  Late  in  the  afternoon  I  was 
awakened  by  some  strange  noise;  I  soon  recollected 
my  situation,  and  the  noise,  which  I  now  found  to  be 
the  barking  of  dogs  or  wolves,  grew  louder  and  ap 
proached  nearer.  In  a  few  moments  I  was  surround 
ed  by  an  army  of  coyotes  and  gray  wolves.  I  was- 
lying  in  the  sun,  and  was  faint  from  the  effects  of  its 
heat.  I  struggled  to  get  to  a  small  tree  near  by,  but 
could  not.  They  were  now  near  enough  for  me  to 
almost  reach  them,  smellingj  snuffing,  and  growling 
as  if  holding  a  meeting  to  see  which  should  be  first 


102    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 


ATTACKED   BY    COYOTES   AND   WOLVES. 

to  plunge  his  sharp  teeth  in  my  flesh,  and  first  to 
gorge  his  lank  stomach  upon  my  almost  bloodless 
carcass.  I  was  excited  with  fear,  and  immediately 
sprang  to  my  feet  and  raised  a  yell ;  and  as  I  rose, 
struck  the  one  nearest  me  with  my  hand.  He  started 
back,  and  the  rest  gave  way  a  little.  This  was  the 
first  utterance  I  had  made  since  the  massacre.  These 
unprincipled  gormandizers,  on  Seeing  me  get  up  and 
hurl  a  stone  at  them,  ran  off  a  short  distance,^  then 
turned  and  faced  me;  when  they  set  up  one. of  the 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         103 

most  hideous,  doleful  liowlings  that  I  ever  heard  from 
any  source.  As  it  rang  out  for  several  minutes  upon 
the  still  evening  air,  and  echoed  from  crag  to  crag,  it 
sent  the  most  awful  sensations  of  dread  and  loneliness 
thrilling  through  my  whole  frame.  i  A  fit  requiem 
for  the  dead,'  thought  I.  I  tried  to  scatter  them,  but 
they  seemed  bent  upon  supplying  their  stomachs  by 
dividing  iny  body  between  them,  and  thus  complet 
ing  the  work  left  unfinished  by  their  brothers,  the 
Apaches. 

"  I  had  come  now  to  think  enough  of  the  chance 
for  my  life,  to  covet  it  as  a  boon  worth  preserving. 
But  I  had  serious  fears  when  I  saw  with  what  bold 
ness  and  tenacity  they  kept  upon  my  track,  as  I 
armed  myself  with  a  few  rocks  and  pushed  on.  The 
excitement  of  this  scene  fully  roused  me,  and  devel 
oped  physical  strength  that  I  had  not  been  able  be 
fore  to  command.  The  sun  had  now  reached  the 
horizon,  and  the  first  shades  of  lonely  night  lay  upon 
the  distant  gorges  and  hill-sides.  I  kept  myself  sup 
plied  with  rocks,  occasionally  hurling  one  at  the 
more  insolent  of  this  second  tribe  of  savages.  They 
seemed  determined,  however,  to  force  an  acquaint 
ance.  At  times  they  would  set  up  one  of  their  wild 
concerts,  and  grow  furious  as  if  newly  enraged  at  my 
escape.  Then  they  would  huddle  about,  fairly  beset 
ting  my  steps.  I  was  much  frightened,  but  knew  of 
only  one  course  to  take.  After  becoming  weary  and 
faint  with  hunger  and  thirst,  some  time  after  dark  I 


104     CAPTIVITY^  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

feared  I 'should  faint,  and  before  morning  be  de 
voured  by  them.  Late  in  the  evening  they  called  a 
halt,  for  a  moment  stood  closely  huddled  in  the  road 
behind  me,  as  if  wondering  what  blood-clad  ghost 
from  some  other  sphere  could  be  treading  this  un 
friendly  soil.  They  were  soon  away,  to  my  glad 
surprise  ;  and  ere  midnight  the  last  echo  of  their  wild 
yells  had  died  upon  the  distant  hills  to  the  north.  I 
traveled  nearly  all  night.  The  cool  night  much  re 
lieved  the  pain  in  my  head,  but  compelled  me  to 
keep  up  beyond  my  strength,  to  prevent  suffering 
from  cold.  I  have  no  remembrance  of  aught  from 
about  two  to  four  o'clock  of  that  night,  until  about 
nine  of  the  next  day,  save  the  wild,  troublous  dreams 
that  disturbed  my  sleep.  I  dreamed  of  Indians,  of 
bloodshed,  of  my  sisters,  that  they  were  being  put  to 
death  by  slow  tortures,  that  I  was  with  them,  and 
my  turn  was  coming  soon.  When  I  came  to  myself 
I  had  hardly  strength  to  move  a  muscle ;  it  was  a 
long  time  before  I  could  get  up.  I  concluded  I 
must  perish,  and  meditated  seriously  the  eating 
of  the  flesh  from  my  arm  to  satisfy  my  hunger  and 
prevent  starvation.  I  knew  I  had  not  sufficient 
of  life  to  last  to  Pi  mole  at  this  rate,  and  concluded  it 
as  well  to  lie  there  and  die,  as  to  put  forth  more  of 
painful  effort. 

"  In  the  midst  of  these  musings,  too  dreadful  and 
full  of  horror  to  be  described,  I  roused  and  started. 
About  noon  I  was  passing  through  a  dark  canon, 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       105 

nearly  overhung  with  dripping  rocks ;  here  I  slaked 
my  thirst,  and  was  about  turning  a  short  corner, 
when  two  red-shirted  Pimoles,  mounted  upon  fine 
American  horses,  came  in  sight.  They  straightened 


LORENZO    EESCUED   BY   FKIEXDLY    IXDIAX8. 

in  their  stirrups,  drew  their  bows,  with  arrows 
pointed  at  me.  I  raised  my  hand  to  my  head  and 
beckoned  to  them,  and  speaking  in  Spanish,  begged 
them  not  to  shoot.  Quick  as  thought,  when  I  spoke 
they  dropped  their  bows,  and  rode  up  to  me.  I 
soon  recognized  one  of  them  as  an  Indian  with  whom 


106      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

I  had  been  acquainted  at  Pimole  Village.  They 
eyed  me  closely  for  a  few  minutes,  when  my  acquaint 
ance  discovering  through  my  disfigured  features  who 
it  was,  that  I  was  one  of  the  family  that  had  gone  on 
a  little  before,  dismounted,  laid  hold  of  me,  and  em 
braced  me  with  every  expression  of  pity  and  condo 
lence  that  could  throb  in  an  American  heart. 
Taking  me  by  the~hand  they  asked  me  what  could 
have  happened.  I  told  them  as  well  as  I  could,  and 
of  the  fate  of  the  rest  of  the  family.  They  took  me 
one  side  under  a  tree,  and  laid  me  upon  their  blank 
ets.  They  then  took  from  their  saddle  a  piece  of 
their  ash-baked  bread,  and  a  gourd  of  water.  I  ate 
the  piece  of  bread,  and  have  often  thought  of  the 
mercy  it  was  they  had  no  more,  for  I  might  have 
easily  killed  myself  by  eating  too  much ;  my  cravings 
were  uncontrollable.  They  hung  up  the  gourd  of 
water  in  reach,  and  charged  me  to  remain  until  they 
might  return,  promising  to  carry  me  to  Pimole. 
After  sleeping  a  short  time  I  awoke,  and  became 
fearful  to  trust  myself  with  these  Pimoles.  They 
had  gone  on  to  the  scene  of  the  massacre ;  it  was  near 
night;  I  adjusted  their  blankets  and  laid  them  one 
side,  and  commenced  the  night's  travel  refreshed, 
and  not  a  little  cheered.  But  I  soon  found  my  body 
racked  with  more  pain,  and  oppressed  with  more 
weariness  than  ever.  I  kept  up  all  night,  most  of 
the  time  traveling.  It  was  the  loneliest,  most  horror- 
struck  night  of  my  life.  Glad  was  I  to  mark  the  first 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.       107 

streaks  of  the  fourth  morning.  Never  did  twilight 
shine  so  bright,  or  seem  empowered  to  chase  so 
much  of  darkness  away. 

"  Cheered  for  a  few  moments,  I  hastened  my 
steps,  staggering  as  I  went ;  I  found  that  I  was  com 
pelled  to  rest  oftener  than  usual,  I  plainly  saw  I 
could  not  hold  out  much  longer.  My  head  was  be 
coming  inflamed  within  and  without,  and  in  places 
on  my  scalp  was  putrid.  About  mid-forenoon,  after 
frequent  attempts  to  proceed,  I  crawled  under  a 
shrub  and  was  soon  asleep,  I  slept  two  or  three  hours 
undisturbed.  '  O  my  God !'  were  the  words  with 
which  I  woke,  {  could  I  get  something  to  eat,  and 
some  one  to  dress  my  wounds,  I  might  yet  live.'  I 
had  now  a  desire  to  sleep  continually.  I  resisted 
this  with  all  the  power  I  had.  While  thus  musing  I 
cast  my  eyes  down  upon  a  long  winding  valley 
through  which  the  road  wandered,  and  plainly  saw 
moving  objects ;  I  was  sure  they  were  Indians,  and  at 
the  thought  my  heart  sank  within  me.  I  meditated 
killing  myself.  For  one  hour  I  kept  my  aching 
eyes  upon  the  strange  appearance,  when,  all  at  once, 
as  they  rose  upon  a  slight  hill,  I  plainly  recognized 
two  white  covered  wagons.  O  what  a  moment  was 
that.  Hope,  joy,  confidence,  now  for  the  first  time 
seemed  to  mount  my  soul,  and  hold  glad  empire  over 
all  my  pains,  doubts,  and  fears.  In  the  excitement  I 
lost  my  consciousness,  and  waked  not  until  disturbed 
by  some  noise  near  me.  I  opened  my  eyes,  and 


108    CAPTIVITY  OP  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIELS  AMONQ- 

two  covered  wagons  were  halting  close  to  me,  and 
Robert  was  approaching  me.  I  knew  him,  but  my 
own  appearance  was  so  haggard  and  unnatural,  it 
was  some  time  before  he  detected  who  that  '  strange- 
looking  boy,  covered  with  blood,  hatless  and  shoeless, 
could  be,  his  visage  scarred,  and  he  pale  as  a  ghost 
fresh  from  Pandemonium.'  After  looking  for  some 
time,  slowly  and  cautiously  approaching,  he  broke 
out :  '  My  God,  Lorenzo !  in  the  name  of  heaven, 
what,  Lorenzo,  has  happened?'  I  felt  my  heart 
strangely  swell  in  my  bosom,  and  I  could  scarcely 
believe  my  sight.  '  Can  it  be  ?'  I  thought,  i  can  it  be 
that  this  is  a  familiar  white  face  ?'  I  could  not 
speak ;  my  heart  could  only  pour  out  its  emotions  in 
the  streaming  tears  that  flowed  most  freely  over  my 
face.  When  I  recovered  myself  sufficiently,  I  began 
to  speak  of  the  fate  of  the  rest  of  the  family.  They 
could  not  speak,  some  of  them ;  those  tender-hearted 
women  wept  most  bitterly,  and  sobbed  aloud,  beg 
ging  me  to  desist,  and  hide  the  rest  of  the  truth 
from  them. 

"  They  immediately  chose  the  course  of  prudence, 
and  resolved  not  to  venture  with  so  small  a  company, 
where  we  had  met  such  a  doom.  Mr.  Wilder  pre 
pared  me  some  bread  and  milk,  which,  without  any 
necessity  for  a  sharpening  process,  my  appetite,  for 
some  reason,  relished  very  well.  They  traveled  a 
few  miles  on  the  back  track  that  night,  and  camped. 
I  received  every  attention  and  kindness  that  a  true 


THE    APACHE   ATsTD    MOHAVE    ESTDTANS.       109 

sympathy  could  minister.  We  camped  where  a  gur 
gling  spring  sent  the  clear  cold  water  to  the  surface ; 
and  here  I  refreshed  myself  with  draughts  of  the 
purest  of  beverages,  cleansed  my  wounds,  and 
bathed  my  aching  head  and  bruised  body  in  one 
of  nature's  own  baths.  The  next  day  we  were  safe 
at  Pimole  ere  night  came  on.  When  the  Indians 
learned  what  had  happened,  they,  with  much  vehe 
mence,  charged  it  upon  the  Yumas;  but  for  this  we 
made  allowance,  as  a  deadly  hostility  burned  between 
these  tribes.  Mr.  Kelly  and  Mr.  Wilder  resolved 
upon  proceeding  immediately  to  the  place  of  massa 
cre,  and  burying  the  dead. 

"  Accordingly,  early  the  next  day,  with  two  Mexi 
cans  and  several  Pimoles,  they  started.  They  re 
turned  after  an  absence  of  three  days,  and  reported 
that  they  could  find  but  little  more  than  the  bones 
of  six  persons,  and  that  they  were  able  to  find  and 
distinguish  the  bodies  of  all  but  those  of  Olive  and 
Mary  Ann.  If  they  had  found  the  bodies  of  my  sis 
ters  the  news  would  have  been  less  dreadful  to  me 
than  the  tidings  that  they  had  been  carried  off  by 
the  Indians.  But  my  suspicions  were  now  con 
firmed,  and  I  could  only  see  them  as  the  victims 
of  a  barbarous  captivity.  During  their  absence,  and 
for  some  time  after,  I  was  severely  and  dangerously 
ill,  but  with  the  kind  attention  and  nursing  rendered 
me  I  began  after  a  week  to  revive.  We  were  now 
only  waiting  the  coming  that  way  of  some  persons 


110    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

who  might  be  westward  bound,  to  accompany  them 
to  California.  When  we  had  been  there  two  weeks, 
six  men  came  into  Pimole,  who,  on  learning  of  our 
situation,  kindly  consented  to  keep  with  us  until  we 
could  reach  Fort  Yuma.  The  Kellys  and  "Wilders 
had  some  time  before  abandoned  their  notion  of  a 
year's  stay  at  Pimole.  We  were  soon  again  upon 
that  road,  with  every  step  of  which  I  now  had  a 
painful  familiarity.  On  the  sixth  day  we  reached 
that  place,  of  all  others  the  most  deeply  memory- 
written.  I  have  no  power  to  describe,  nor  can 
tongue  or  pen  proclaim  the  feelings  that  heaved 
my  sorrowing  heart  as  I  reached  the  fatal  spot. 
I  could  hear  still  the  echo  of  those  wild  shrieks 
and  hellish  whoops,  reverberating  along  the  mount 
ain  cliffs!  those  groans,  those  awful  groans,  could 
it  be  my  imagination,  or  did  they  yet  live  in  plead 
ing  echo  among  the  numerous  caverns  on  either 
hand?  Every  footfall  startled  me,  and  seemed  to 
be  an  intruder  upon  the  chambers  of  the  dead ! 

"  There  were  dark  thoughts  in  my  mind,  and  I  felt 
that  this  was  a  charnel-house  that  had  plundered  our 
household  of  its  bloom,  its  childhood,  and  its  stay! 
I  marked  the  precise  spot  where  the  work  of  death 
commenced.  My  eyes  would  then  gaze  anxiously 
and  long  upon  the  high,  wild  mountains,  with  their 
forests  and  peaks  that  now  embosomed  all  of  my 
blood  that  were  still  alive !  I  traced  the  footprints 
of  their  captors,  and  of  those  who  had  laid  my  par- 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       Ill 

ents  beneath  my  feet.  I  sighed  to  wrap  myself  in 
their  death-robe,  and  with  them  sleep  my  long,  last 
sleep  !  But  it  was  haunted  ground,  and  to  tarry 
there  alive  was  more  dreadful  than  the  thought 
of  sharing  their  repose.  I  hastened  away.  I  pray 
God  to  save  me  in  future  from  the  dark  thoughts 
that  gloomed  my  mind  on  turning  my  back  upon  that 
spot;  and  the  reader  from  experiencing  kindred  sor 
row.  With  the  exception  of  about  eighteen  miles  of 
desert,  we  had  a  comfortable  week  of  travel  to  Fort 
Yum  a.  I  still  suffered  much,  at  times  was  seriously 
worse,  so  that  my  life  was  despaired  of;  but  more 
acute  were  my  mental  than  my  physical  sufferings. 

"At  the  Fort  every  possible  kindness,  with  the 
best  of  medical  skill,  ministered  to  my  comfort  and 
hastened  my  recovery.  To  Dr.  Hewitt  I  owe,  and 
must  forever  owe,  a  debt  of  gratitude  which  I  can 
never  return.  The  sense  of  obligations  I  still  cherish 
finds  but  a  poor  expression  in  words.  He  became  a 
parent  to  me  ;  and  kindly  extended  his  guardianship 
and  unabating  kindness,  when  the  force  was  moved 
to  San  Diego,  and  then  he  took  me  to  San  Francisco, 
at  a  time  when,  but  for  his  counsel  and  his  affection 
ate  oversight,  I  might  have  been  turned  out  to  wreck 
upon  the  cold  world. 

"  Here  we  found  that  Doctor  Lecount  had  done  all 
in  his  power  to  get  up  and  hasten  a  party  of  men  to 
our  relief;  but  he  was  prevented  by  the  commander, 
a  Mr.  Heinsalman,  who  was  guilty  of  an  unexplaina- 


112    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

ble,  if  not  an  inexcusable  delay — a  delay  that  was 
an  affliction  to  the  doctor,  and  a  calamity  to  us.  He 
seemed  deaf  to  every  appeal  for  us  in  our  distressed 
condition.  His  conduct,  if  we  had  been  a  pack  of 
hungry  wolves,  could  not  have  exhibited  more  total 
recklessness.  The  fact  of  our  condition  reached  the 
Fort  at  almost  as  early  an  hour  as.it  would  if  the  ani 
mals  of  the  doctor  had  been  retained,  and  there  were 
a  number  of  humane  men  at  the  Fort  who  volun 
teered  to  rush  to  our  relief;  but  no  permission  could 
be  obtained  from  the  commander.  If  he  still  lives, 
it  is  to  know  and  remember,  that  by  a  prompt  action 
at  that  time,  according  to  the  behests  and  impulse  of 
a  principle  of  l  humanity  to  man,'  he  would  have 
averted  our  dreadful  doom.  ]STo  language  can  fath 
om  such  cruelty.  He  was  placed  there  to  protect 
the  defenseless  of  his  countrymen ;  and  to  suffer  an 
almost  destitute  family,  struggling  amid  dangers  and 
difficulties,  to  perish  for  want  of  relief  that  he  knew 
he  might  have  extended,  rolls  upon  him  a  responsi 
bility  in  the  inhuman  tragedy  that  followed  his  neg 
lect,  that  will  haunt  him  through  eternity.  There 
were  men  there  who  nobly  stepped  forward  to  as 
sume  the  danger  and  labor  of  the  prayed-for  relief, 
and  around  them  clusters  the  light  of  gratitude,  the 
incense  of  the  good ;  but  he  who  neglects  the  desti 
tute,  the  hungry,  the  imperiled,  proclaims  his  com 
panionship  with  misanthropists,  and  hews  his  own 
road  to  a  prejudged  disgrace.  After  several  days 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.        113 

he  reluctantly  sent  out  two  men,  who  hastened  on 
toward  Pimole  until  they  came  to  the  place  of  the 
massacre,  and  finding  what  had  happened,  and  that 
the  delay  had  been  followed  by  such  a  brutal  murder 
of  the  family  for  whose  safety  and  rescue  they  had 
burned  to  encounter  the  perils  of  this  desert  way, 
sick  at  heart,  and  indignant  at  this  cruel,  let-alone 
policy,  they  returned  to  the  Fort ;  though  not  until 
they  had  exhausted  their  scant  supply  of  provisions 
in  search  of  the  girls,  of  whose  captivity  they  had 
learned.  May  Heaven  bless  these  benefactors,  and 
pour  softening  influences  upon  their  hard-hearted 
commander." 

The  mind  instinctively  pauses,  and,  suspended  be 
tween  wonder  and  horror,  dwells  with  most  intense 
interest  upon  a  scene  like  the  one  presented  above. 
Look  at  the  faint  pointings  to  the  reality,  yet  the  best 
that  art  can  inscribe,  furnished  by  the  plate.  Two 
timid  girls,  one  scarcely  fourteen,  the  other  a  deli 
cate,  sweet-spirited  girl  of  not  eight  summers.  Trem 
bling  with  fear,  swaying  and  reeling  under  the  wild 
storm  of  a  catastrophe  bursting  upon  them  when 
they  had  been  lulled  into  the  belief  that  their  dan 
ger-thronged  path  had  been  well-nigh  passed,  and 
the  fury  of  which  exceeded  all  that  the  most  excited 
imagination  could  have  painted,  these  two  girls, 
eye-witnesses  to  a  brutal,  bloody  affray  which  had 
smitten  father,  mother,  brothers,  and  sisters,  robbing 
them  in  an  instant  of  friends  and  friendly  protec- 


114      CARTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

tion,  and  cast  themselves,  they  knew  not  where, 
upon  the  perpetrators  of  all  this  butchery,  whose 
tender  mercies  they  had  only  to  expect  would  be 
cruelty  itself.  That  brother,  that  oldest  brother,  wel 
tering  in  his  blood,  perfectly  conscious  of  all  that 
was  transpiring.  The  girls  wishing  that  a  kindred 
fate  had  ended  their  own  sufferings,  and  preserved 
them  by  a  horrible  death  from  a  more  horrible  after- 
part,  placing  them  beyond  the  reach  of  savage  arm 
and  ferocity.  O  what  an  hour  was  that!  What  a 
world  of  paralyzing  agonies  were  pressed  into  that 
one  short  hour !  It  was  an  "  ocean  in  a  tear,  a  whirl 
wind  in  a  sigh,  an  eternity  in  a  moment."  Unoffend 
ing,  innocent,  yet  their  very  souls  throbbing  with 
woe  they  had  never  merited.  See  them  but  a  little 
before,  wearied  with  the  present,  but  happy  in  the 
prospect  of  a  fast  approaching  termination  of  their 
journey.  A  band  of  Indians,  stalwart,  stout,  and 
fierce-looking  came  into  the  camp,  scantily  clad, 
and  what  covering  they  had  borrowed  from  the  wild 
beasts,  as  if  to  furnish  an  appropriate  badge  of  their 
savage  nature  and  design.  They  cover  their  weapons 
under  their  wolf-skins ;  they  warily  steal  upon  this 
unprotected  family,  and  by  deceiving  pretenses  of 
friendship  blunt  their  apprehensions  of  danger,  and 
make  them  oblivious  of  a  gathering  doom.  They 
smoke  the  pacific  pipe,  and  call  themselves  Pimoles 
who  are  on  their  way  to  Fort  Yuma.  Then  secretly 
they  concoct  their  hellish  plot  in  their  own  tongue, 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         115 

with  naught  but  an  involuntary  glance  of  their  ser 
pent  eyes  to  flash  or  indicate  the  infernality  of  their 
treacherous  hearts.  When  every  preparation  is  made 
by  the  family  to  proceed,  no  defense  studied  or 
thought  necessary,  then  these  hideous  man-animals 
spring  upon  them  with  rough  war-clubs  and  murder 
them  in  cold  blood ;  and,  as  if  to  strew  their  hellish 
way  with  the  greatest  possible  amount  of  anguish, 
they  compel  these  two  girls  to  witness  all  the  bar 
barity  that  broke  upon  the  rest,  and  to  read  therein 
what  horrors  hung  upon  their  own  future  living 
death.  O  what  depths  and  deeds  of  darkness  and 
crime  are  sometimes  locked  up  in  that  heart  where 
the  harmonies  of  a  passion-restraining  principle  and 
reason  have  never  been  waked  up !  How  slender 
every  foundation  for  any  forecasting  upon  the  char 
acter  of  its  doings,  when  trying  emergences  are 
left  an  appeal  to  its  untamed  and  unregulated  pro 
pensities  ! 

The  work  of  plunder  follows  the  work  of  slaughter. 
The  dead  bodies  were  thrown  about  in  the  rudest 
manner,  and  pockets  searched,  boxes  broken  and 
plundered,  and  soon  as  they  are  fully  convinced  that 
the  work  of  spoils-taking  is  completed,  and  they  dis 
cover  no  signs  of  remaining  life  (which  they  hunted 
for  diligently)  to  awaken  suspicions  of  detection, 
they  prepare  with  live  spoils,  human  and  brute,  to 
depart. 

"Soon  after,"  continues  Olive,  "we  camped.     A 
8 


116      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAJST  GIRLS  AMONG 

fire  was  struck  by  means  of  flints  and  wild  cotton, 
which  they  carried  for  the  purpose.  The  cattle  were 
allowed  to  range  upon  the  rock-feed,  which  abounded ; 
and  even  with  this  unnatural  provision,  they  were 
secure  against  being  impelled  by  hunger  far  from 
camp,  as  they  scarcely  had  strength  to  move.  Then 
came  the  solid  dough,  made  of  water  and  flour,  baked 
stone-hard  in  the  hot  ashes,  and  then  soaked  in  bean- 
soup  ;  then  the  smoking  of  pipes  by  some,  while 
others  lounged  lazily  about  the  camp,  filled  up  the 
hour  of  our  tarrying  here.  Food  was  offered  me, 
but  how  could  I  eat  to  prolong  a  life  I  now  loathed. 
I  felt  neither  sensations  of  hunger  nor  a  desire  to 
live.  Could  I  have  done  it,  I  should  probably  have 
ended  my  life  during  moments  of  half-delirious, 
crushing  anguish,  that  some  of  the  time  rolled  upon 
me  with  a  force  suflicient  to  divide  soul  from  body. 
But  I  was  narrowly  watched  by  those  worse  than 
fiends,  to  whom  every  expression  of  my  grief  was 
occasion  for  merry-making.  I  dwelt  upon  these  aw 
ful  realities,  yet,  at  times,  such  I  could  not  think 
them  to  be,  until  my  thoughts  would  become  con 
fused.  Mangled  as  I  knew  they  were,  I  longed  to 
go  back  and  take  one  look,  one  long,  last,  farewell 
look  in  the  faces  of  my  parents  and  those  dear 
brothers.  Could  I  but  go  back  and  press  the  hands 
of  those  dear  ones,  though  cold  in  death,  I  would 
then  consent  to  go  on !  There  was  Lucy,  about  sev 
enteen  years  of  age,  a  dear  girl  of  a  sweet,  mild 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         117 

spirit,  never  angry.  She  bad  been  a  mother  to  me 
when  our  parents  were  absent  or  sick.  She  had 
borne  the  peculiar  burden  falling  upon  the  oldest  of 
a  family  of  children,  with  evenness  of  temper  and 
womanly  fortitude.  'Why,'  my  heart  inquired, 
i  should  she  be  thus  cut  off  and  I  left  ?'  Lorenzo  I 
supposed  dead,  for  I  saw  him  fall  to  the  ground  by 
the  first  blow  that  was  struck,  and  afterward  saw 
them  take  from  him  hat  and  shoes,  and  drag  him  to 
the  brink  of  the  hill  by  the  feet.  Supposing  they 
would  dash  him  upon  the  rocks  below,  I  turned 
away,  unable  to  witness  more !  Royse,  a  playful, 
gleeful  boy,  full  of  health  and  happiness,  stood  a 
moment  horror-struck  as  he  witnessed  the  commence 
ment  of  the  carnage,  being  furthest  from  the  Indians. 
As  they  came  up  to  him,  he  gave  one  wild,  piercing 
scream,  and  then  sank  to  the  earth  under  the  club! 
I  saw  him  when  the  death-struggle  drew  his  little 
frame  into  convulsions,  and  then  he  seemed  to  swoon 
away ;  a  low  moan,  a  slight  heaving  of  the  bosom, 
and  he  quietly  sank  into  the  arms  of  death.  Little 
C.  A.  had  not  as  yet  seen  four  summers ;  she  was  a 
cherub  girl.  She,  with  her  little  brother,  twenty 
months  younger,  had  been  saved  the  torments  of 
fear  that  had  seized  the  rest  of  us  from  the  time  of 
the  appearance  of  the  Indians.  They  were  too 
young  to  catch  the  flashes  of  fear  that  played  upon 
the  countenances  of  the  elder  children  and  their  par 
ents,  and  were  happily  trustful  when  our  father,  with 


118      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

forced  composure,  bade  us  not  be  afraid !  The  strug 
gles  of  these  two  dear  little  ones  were  short.  My 
mother  screamed,  I  turned,  I  saw  her  with  her 
youngest  child  clasped  in  her  arms,  and  the  blows 
of  the  war-club  falling  upon  her  and  the  child.  I 
sprang  toward  her,  uttered  a  shriek,  and  found  my 
self  joining  her  in  calling  most  earnestly  for  help. 
But  I  had  no  sooner  started  toward  her  than  I  was 
seized  and  thrown  back  by  my  overseer.  I  turned 
around,  found  my  head  beginning  to  reel  in  dizziness, 
and  fainting  fell  to  the  ground. 

"The  reader  can  perhaps  imagine  the  nature  of 
my  thoughts  while  standing  at  that  camp-fire,  with 
my  sister  clinging  to  me  in  convulsive  sobs  and 
groans.  From  fear  of  the  Indians,  whose  frowns  and 
threats,  mingled  with  hellish  jests,  were  constantly 
glaring  upon  us,  she  struggled  to  repress  and  prevent 
any  outburst  of  the  grief  that  seemed  to  tear  her  lit 
tle  heart.  And  when  her  feelings  became  uncontrol 
lable,  she  would  hide  her  head  in  my  arms,  and  most 
piteously  sob  aloud,  but  she  was  immediately  hushed 
by  the  brandishing  of  a  war-club  over  her  head. 

"  While  in  this  camp,  awaiting  the  finished  meal, 
and  just  •  after  twilight,  the  full  moon  arose  and 
looked  in  upon  our  rock-girt  gorge  with  a  majesty 
and  sereneness  that  seemed  to  mock  our  changeful 
doom.  Indeed  a  more  beautiful  moonrise  I  never 
saw.  The  sky  was  clear,  the  wind  had  hushed  its 
roar,  and  laid  by  its  fury;  the  larger  and  more 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS. 


119 


THE  CAPTIVES  AT  THE  INDIAN  CAMP-FIEE. 

brilliant  of  the  starry  throng  stood  out  clear  above, 
despite  the  superior  light  of  the  moon,  which  had 
blushed  the  lesser  ones  into  obscurity.  As  that  moon 
mounted  the  cloudless  east,  yet  tinged  with  the  last 
stray  beauties  of  twilight,  and  sent  its  first  mild  glories 
along  the  surrounding  peaks,  the  scene  of  illumined 
heights,  and  dark,  cavernous,  shade-clad  hill-sides  and 
gorges,  was  grand,  and  to  a  mind  unfettered  with 
woe  would  have  lent  the  inspiration  of  song.  I 
looked  upon  those  gorges  and  vales,  with  their  deeps 


120       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

of  gloom,  and  then  upon  the  moon-kissed  ridges  that 
formed  boundaries  of  light  to  limit  their  shadows ! 
I  thought  the  former  a  fit  exponent  of  iny  heart's 
realizations,  and  the  whole  an  impressive  illustration 
of  the  contrast  between  my  present  and  the  recent 
past.  That  moon,  ordinarily  so  welcome,  and  that 
seemed  supernaturally  empowered  to  clothe  the 
barren  heights  with  a  richer  than  nature's  verdure 
robes,  and  so  cheering  to  us  only  a  few  evenings  pre 
vious  while  winding  our  way  over  that  dusty  road,  had 
now  suddenly  put  on  a  robe  of  sackcloth.  All  was 
still,  save  the  chattering  of  our  captors,  and  the 
sharp,  irregular  howling  of  the  coyotes,  who  perform 
most  of  their  odes  in  the  night,  and  frequently  made 
it  hideous  from  twilight  to  twilight  again. 

"  O  how  much  crowded  into  that  short  hour  spent 
at  the  first  camp  after  leaving  the  scene  of  death 
and  sleeping  previous !  Ignorant  of  the  purposes  of 
our  own  preservation,  we  could  only  wait  in  breath 
less  anxiety  the  movements  of  our  merciless  lords. 
I  then  began  to  meditate  upon  leaving  those  parents, 
brothers  and  sisters ;  I  looked  up  and  saw  the  Tin- 
covered  bows  strung  over  the  wagon,  the  cloth  of 
which  had  been  torn  off  by  the  Indians.  I  knew 
that  it  designated  the  spot  where  horror  and  affection 
lingered.  I  meditated  upon  the  past,  the  present, 
and  the  future.  The  moon,  gradually  ascending  the 
sky,  was  fast  breaking  in  upon  the  deep-shade  spots 
that  at  her  first  rising  had  contended  with  ridges  of 


THE   APACHE   ANT>    MOHAVE    INTHATSTS.         121 

light  spread  about  them.  That  moon  had  witnessed 
the  night  before  my  childish  but  sincerest  vow,  that 
I  would  never  be  taken  alive  by  Indian  savages,  and 
was  now  laughing  at  the  frailty  of  the  resolution  and 
the  abruptness  with  which  the  fears  to  which  it 
pointed  had  become  reality  !  That  moon  had  smiled 
on  many,  very  many  hours  spent  in  lands  far  away 
in  childish  glee,  romps  and  sports  prolonged,  near  the 
home-hearth  and  grass-plotted  door-yard,  long  after 
the  cool  evening  breezes  had  fanned  away  the  sultry 
air  of  the  day.  The  very  intonations  of  the  voices 
that  had  swelled  and  echoed  in  those  uncaring  hours 
of  glee  came  back  to  me  now,  to  rehearse  in  the  ears 
of  a  present,  insupportable  sorrow,  the  music  of  past, 
but  happier  days.  This  hour,  this  moon-lit  hour, 
was  one  most  dear  and  exclusive  to  the  gushing  forth 
of  the  heart's  unrestrained  overflowings  of  happiness. 
Where  are  now  those  girls  and  boys  ?  where  now  are 
those  who  gathered  about  me,  and  over  whose  sun 
tanned  but  ruddy  cheeks  had  stolen  the  unbidden 
tear  at  the  hour  of  parting ;  or,  with  an  artless  sim 
plicity,  the  heart's  'good-by'  was  repeated  o'er  and 
o'er  again  ?  Is  this  moon  now  bearing  the  same  un- 
iningled  smile  to  them  as  when  it  looked  upon  our 
mutual  evening  promenadings  ?  or  has  it  put  on  the 
somber  hues  that  seem  to  tinge  its  wonted  brightness 
to  me,  heralding  the  color  of  our  fate,  and  hinting  of 
our  sorrow  ?  These,  all  these,  and  many  more  kindred 
reflections  found  way  to,  and  strung  the  heart's  sad- 


122       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIKLS  AMONG 

dest  notes.  And  as  memory  and  present  conscious 
ness  told  me  of  those  days  and  evenings  gone — gone 
never  to  be  repeated — I  became  sick  of  life,  and 
resolved  upon  stopping  its  currents  with  my  own 
hands;  and  but  for  the  yearning  anxiety  that  bent 
over  little  Mary  Ann,  I  should  have  only  waited  the 
opportunity  to  have  executed  my  desperate  purpose. 
The  strolls  to  school,  arm-in-arm  with  the  now  re 
membered,  but  abandoned  partners  of  the  blissful 
past,  on  the  summer  morn ;  the  windings  and  wan 
derings  upon  the  distinctly  remembered  strawberry 
patches  at  sultry  noon ;  the  evening  walks  for  the 
cows,  when  the  setting  sun  and  the  coming  on  of 
cloudless,  stormless,  cool  evenings,  clothed  all  nature 
with  unwonted  loveliness ;  together  with  the  sad 
present,  that  furnished  so  unexpected  and  tormenting 
a  contrast  with  all  before,  would  rush  again  upon 
me,  bringing  the  breath  of  dark,  suicidal  thoughts  to 
fire  up  the  fast  hour  of  a  camp  among  the  Indians  /" 

But  these  harrowing  meditations  are  suddenly 
interrupted;  cattle  are  placed  in  order  for  traveling; 
five  of  the  Indians  are  put  in  charge  of  the  girls,  and 
welcome  or  unwelcome  they  must  away  they  knew 
not  where. 

"  We  were  started  and  kept  upon  a  rapid  pace  for 
several  hours.  One  of  the  Indians  takes  the  lead, 
Mary  Ann  and  myself  follow,  bareheaded  and  shoe 
less,  the  Indians  having  taken  off  our  shoes  and  head 
covering.  We  were  traveling  at  a  rate,  as  we  soon 


THE    APACHE   AND    MOIIAVE   INDIANS.       123 

learned,  much  beyond  our  strength.  Soon  the  light 
of  the  camp-fire  was  hid,  and  as  my  eye  turned,  full 
of  tears,  in  search  of  the  sleeping-place  of  my  kin 
dred,  it  could  not  be  distinguished  from  the  peaks 
and  rocks  about  it.  Every  slackening  of  our  pace 
and  utterance  of  grief,  however,  was  the  signal  for 
new  threats,  and  the  suspended  war-club,  with  the 
fiendish  ^Yokoa?  in  our  ears,  repressed  all  expres 
sion  of  sorrow,  and  pushed  us  on  up  steeper  ascents 
and  bolder  hills  with  a  quickened  step.  We  must 
have  traveled  at  the  rate  of  four  or  five  miles  an 
hour.  Our  feet  were  soon  lacerated,  as  in  shadowed 
places  we  were  unable  to  pick  our  way,  and  were 
frequently  stumbling  upon  stones  and  rocks,  which 
made  them  bleed  freely.  Little  Mary  Ann  soon 
became  unable  to  proceed  at  the  rate  we  had  been 
keeping,  and  sank  down  after  a  few  miles,  saying  she 
could  not  go.  After  threatening  and  beating  her 
considerably,  and  finding  this  treatment  as  well  as 
my  entreaties  useless,  they  threatened  to  dispatch 
and  leave  her,  and  showed  by  their  movements 
and  gestures  that  they  had  fully  come  to  this  determ 
ination.  At  this  I  knew  not  what  to  do;  I  only 
wished  that  if  they  should  do  this  I  might  be  left 
with  her.  She  seemed  to  have  become  utterly  fear 
less  of  death,  and  said  she  had  rather  die  than  live. 
These  inhuman  wretches  sought  by  every  possible 
rudeness  and  abuse  to  rouse  her  fears  and  compel  her 
on;  but  all  in  vain.  I  resolved,  in  the  event  of  her 


124       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONO 

being  left,  to  cling  to  her,  and  thus  compel  them  to 
dispose  of  us  as  they  had  the  remainder  of  the  family, 
and  leave  us  upon  a  neighboring  hill.  My  fears 
were  that  I  could  not  succeed  in  my  desperate  pur 
pose,  and  I  fully  believed  they  would  kill  her,  and 
probably  compel  me  on  with  them.  This  fear  in 
duced  me  to  use  every  possible  plea  that  I  could 
make  known  to  them  to  preserve  her  life;  besides, 
at  every  step  a  faint  hope  of  release  shone  upon  my 
heart;  that  hope  had  a  power  to  comfort  and  keep 
me  up.  While  thus  halting,  one  of  the  stout  Indians 
dislodged  his  pack,  and  putting  it  upon  the  shoulders 
of  another  Indian,  rudely  threw  Mary  Ann  across 
his  back,  and  with  vengeance  in  his  eye  bounded  on. 
"  Sometimes  I  meditated  the  desperate  resolution  to 
utterly  refuse  to  proceed,  but  was  held  back  alone  by 
my  yearning  for  that  helpless  sister.  Again,  I  found 
my  strength  failing,  and  that  unless  a  rest  could  be 
soon  granted  I  must  yield  to  faintness  and  weariness, 
and  bide  the  consequences ;  thus  I  passed  the  dread 
ful  hours  up  to  midnight.  The  meanings  and  sob 
bings  of  Mary  Ann  had  now  ceased ;  not  knowing 
but  she  was  dead,  I  managed  to  look  in  her  face,  and 
found  her  eyes  opening  and  shutting  alternately,  as  if 
in  an  effort  to  wake,  but  still  unable  to  sleep ;  I 
spoke  to  her  but  received  no  answer.  We  could  not 
converse  without  exciting  the  fiendish  rage  of  our 
enemies.  Mary  Ann  seemed  to  have  become  utterly 
indifferent  to  all  about  her;  and,  wrapped  in  a 


THE   APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIANS.         125 

dreamy  reverie,  relieved  of  all  care  of  life  or  death, 
presenting  the  appearance  of  one  who  had  simply  the 
consciousness  that  some  strange,  unaccountable  event 
had  happened,  and  in  its  bewildering  effects  she  was 
content  to  remain.  Our  way  had  been  mostly  over 
a  succession  of  small  bluff  points  of  high  mountain 
chains,  these  letting  down  to  a  rough  winding  valley, 
running  principally  northeast.  These  small  rock 
hills  that  formed  the  bottom  of  the  high  cliffs  on 
either  side,  were  rough,  with  no  perceptible  trail. 
We  halted  for  a  few  moments  about  the  middle  of 
the  night ;  besides  this  we  had  no  rest'  until  about 
noon  of  the  next  day,  when  we  came  to  an  open 
place  of  a  few  acres  of  level,  sandy  soil,  adorned  with 
an  occasional  thrifty,  beautiful  tree,  but  high  and 
seemingly  impassable  mountains  hemming  us  in  on 
every  side.  This  appeared  to  be  to  our  captors  a 
familiar  retreat.  Almost  exhausted,  and  suffering 
extremely,  I  dragged  myself  up  to  the  place  of  halt, 
hoping  that  we  had  completed  the  travel  of  that 
day.  We  had  tarried  about  two  hours  when  the 
rest  of  the  band,  who  had  taken  the  stock  in  another 
direction,  came  up.  They  had  with  them  two  oxen 
and  the  horse.  The  rest  of  the  stock,  we  afterward 
learned,  had  been  killed  and  hung  up  to  dry,  await 
ing  the  roving  of  this  plundering  band  when  another 
expedition  should  lead  them  that  way.  Here  they 
immediately  proceeded  to  kill  the  other  two.  This 
being  done  they  sliced  them  up,  and  closely  packed 


126    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIKLS  AMONG 

the  parcels  in  equalized  packages  for  their  backs. 
They  then  broiled  some  of  the  meat  on  the  fire,  and 
prepared  another  meal  of  this  and  burned  dough  and 
bean  soup.  They  offered  us  of  their  fare  and  we  ate 
with  a  good  appetite.  Never  did  the  tender,  well- 
prepared  veal  steak  at  home  relish  better  than  the. 
tough,  stringy  piece  of  meat  about  the  size  of 
the  hand,  given  us  by  our  captors,  and  which 
with  burned  dough  and  a  little  bean  soup  constituted 
our  meal.  We  were  very  sleepy,  but  such  was  my 
pain  and  suffering  I  could  not  sleep.  They  endeav 
ored  now  to%  compel  Mary  Ann  again  to  go  on  foot ; 
but  this  she  could  not  do,  and  after  beating  her 
again,  all  of  which  she  took  without  a  murmur,  one 
of  them  again  took  her  upon  his  shoulder  and  we 
started.  I  had  not  gone  far  before  I  found  it  impos 
sible  to  proceed  on  account  of  the  soreness  of  my  feet. 
They  then  gave  me  something  very  much  of  the  sub 
stance  of  sole-leather  which  they  tied  upon  the 
bottom  of  my  feet.  This  was  a  relief,  and  though 
suffering  much  from  thirst  and  the  pain  of  over-exer 
tion,  I  was  enabled  to  keep  up  with  the  heavy-laden 
Indians.  We  halted  in  a  snug,  dark  ravine  about  ten 
o'clock  that  night,  and  preparations  were  at  once 
made  for  a  night's  stay.  My  present  suffering  had 
now  made  me  almost  callous  as  to  the  past,  and 
never  did  rest  seem  so  sweet  as  when  I  saw  they  were 
about  to  encamp. 

"During   the   last  six  hours   they   had    whipped 


THE    APACHE   AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.        12  Y 

Mary  Ann  into  walking.  We  were  now  shown  a 
soft  place  in  the  sand,  and  directed  to  it  as  the  place 
of  our  rest ;  and  with  two  of  our  own  blankets 
thrown  over  us,  and  three  savages  encircling  us,  (for 
protection  of  course!)  were  soon,  despite  our  physical 
sufferings,  in  a  dreamy  and  troubled  sleep.  The 
most  frightful  scenes  of  butchery  and  suffering  fol 
lowed  into  every  moment's  slumber.  We  were  not 
roused  until  a  full  twilight  had  shone  in  upon  our 
beautiful  little  ravine  retreat.  The  breakfast  was 
served  up,  consisting  of  beef,  burned  dough,  and 
beans,  instead  of  beans,  burned  dough,  and  beef,  as 
usual.  The  sun  was  now  fairly  upon  us  when,  like 
cattle,  we  were  driven  forth  to  another  day's  travel. 
The  roughest  road  (if  road  be  a  proper  term)  over 
which  I  ever  passed,  in  all  my  captivity,  was  that 
day's  route.  Twice  during  the  day,  I  gave  up,  and 
told  Mary  I  must  consent  to  be  murdered  and  left, 
for  proceed  I  would  not.  But  this  they  were  not 
inclined  to  allow.  When  I  could  not  be  driven, 
I  was  pushed  and  hauled  along.  Stubs,  rocks,  and 
gravel-strewn  mountain  sides  hedged  up  and  embit 
tered  the  travel  of  the  whole  day.  That  day  is 
among  the  few  days  of  my  dreary  stay  among  the 
savages,  marked  by  the  most  pain  and  suffering  ever 
endured.  I  have  since  learned  that  they  hurried 
for  fear  of  the  whites,  emigrant  trains  of  whom  were 
not  unfrequently  passing  that  way.  For  protection 
they  kept  a  close  watch,  having  not  less  than 


128    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

three  guards  or  sentinels  stationed  at  a  little  distance 
from  each  camp  we  made  during  the  entire  night. 
I  have  since  thought  much  upon  the  fear  manifested 
by  these  reputed  brave  barbarians.  They  indeed 
seem  to  be  borne  down  with  the  most  tormenting 
fear  for  their  personal  safety  at  all  times,  at  home, 
or  roaming  for  plunder  or  hunt.  And  yet  courage 
is  made  a  virtue  among  them,  while  cowardice 
is  the  unpardonable  sin.  When  compelled  to  meet 
death,  they  seem  to  muster  a  sullen  obstinate 
defiance  of  their  doom,  that  makes  the  most  of  a 
dreaded  necessity,  rather  than  seek  a  preparation  to 
meet  it  with  a  submission  which  they  often  dis 
semble  but  never  possess. 

"About  noon  we  were  suddenly  surprised  by 
coming  upon  a  band  of  Indians,  eleven  in  number. 
They  emerged  from  behind  a  rock  point  that  set 
out  into  a  low,  dark  ravine,  through  which  we  were 
passing,  and  every  one  of  them  was  armed  with 
bows  and  arrows.  When  they  came  up  they  were 
jabbering  and  gesturing  in  the  most  excited  manner, 
with  eyes  fastened  upon  me.  While  some  of  them 
were  earnestly  conversing  with  members  of  our 
band,  two  of  them  stealthily  crept  around  us,  and 
one  of  them  by  his  gestures  and  excited  talk,  plainly 
showed  hostile  intentions  toward  us,  which  our 
captors  watched  with  a  close  eye.  Suddenly  one  of 
them  strung  his  bow,  and  let  fly  an  arrow  at  me, 
which  pierced  my  dress,  doing  me  no  harm. 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.        129 


ATTEMPT  TO   SHOOT   OLIVE   AND  MAEY  ANN. 

"  He  was  in  the  act,  as  also  the  other,  of  hurling 
the  second,  when  two  of  our  number  sprang  toward 
them  with  their  clubs,  while  two  others  snatched  us 
one  side,  placing  themselves  between  us  and  the 
drawn  bows.  By  this  time  a  strong  Apache  had  the 
Indian  by  a  firm  grasp,  and  compelled  him  to  desist. 
It  was  with  difficulty  they  could  be  shaken  off,  or 
their  murderous  purpose  prevented.  At  one  time 
there  was  likely  to  be  a  general  fight  with  this  band 
(as  I  afterward  learned  them  to  be)  of  land  pirates. 


130    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

"  The  reason,  as  I  afterward  came  to  know,  of  the 
conduct  of  this  Indian,  was  that  he  had  lost  a  brother 
in  an  affray  with  the  whites  upon  this  same  Santa  Fe 
route,  and  he  had  sworn  not  to  allow  the  first  oppor 
tunity  to  escape  without  avenging  his  brother's  blood 
by  taking  the  life  of  an  American.  Had  their  num 
ber  been  larger  a  serious  engagement  would  have 
taken  place,  and  my  life  have  probably  been  sacri 
ficed  to  this  fiend's  revenge.  During  the  skirmish 
of  words  that  preceded  and  for  some  time  followed 
this  attempt  upon  my  life,  I  felt  but  little  anxiety, 
for  there  was  little  reason  to  hope  but  that  we  must 
both  perish  at  the  best,  and  to  me  it  mattered  little 
how  soon.  Friends  we  had  none ;  succor,  or  sympa 
thy,  or  help,  we  had  no  reason  to  think  could  follow 
us  into  this  wild,  unknown  region;  and  the  only 
question  was  whether  we  should  be  murdered  inch 
by  inch,  or  find  a  sudden  though  savage  termination 
to  our  dreadful  condition,  and  sleep  at  once  quietly 
beyond  the  reach  or  brutality  of  these  fiends  in 
death's  embrace.  Indeed  death  seemed  the  only 
release  proffered  from  any  source.  If  I  had  before 
known  that  the  arrow  would  lodge  in  life's  vitals, 
I  doubt  whether  it  would  have  awakened  a  nerve 
or  moved  a  muscle. 

"We  traveled  until  about  midnight,  when  our 
captors  called  a  halt,  and  gave  us  to  understand 
we  might  sleep  for  the  remainder  of  the  night. 
But,  jaded  as  we  were,  and  enduring  as  we  were 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         181 

all  manner  of  pain,  these  were  not  more  in  the 
way  of  sleep  than  the  wild  current  of  our  anxious 
thoughts  and  meditations,  which  we  found  it  im 
possible  to  arrest  or  to  leave  with  the  dead  bodies 
of  our  dear  kindred.  There  was  scarcely  a  moment 
when  the  mind's  consent  could  be  gained  for  sleep. 
Well  do  I  remember  to  have  spent  the  larger  propor 
tion  of  that  half  of  a  night  in  gazing  upon  the  stars, 
counting  those  directly  over  head,  calling  the  names 
I  had  been  taught  to  give  to  certain  of  the  planets, 
pointing  out  to  my  sister  the  old  dipper,  and  seeking 
to  arrest  and  relieve  her  sadness  by  referring  to  the 
views  we  had  taken  of  these  from  the  old  grass-clad 
door-yard  in  front  of  our  humble  cottage  in  Illinois. 
We  spoke  of  the  probability  that  these  might  now  be 
the  objects  of  attention  and  sight  to  eyes  far  away ; 
to  eyes  familiar,  the  gleam  of  whose  kindly  radiance 
had  so  oft  met  ours,  and  with  the  strength  of  whose 
vision  we  had  so  delightfully  tried  our  own  in  thus 
star-gazing.  These  scenes  of  a  past  yet  unfinished 
childhood  came  rushing  upon  the  mind,  bidding  it 
away  over  the  distance  that  now  separated  them  and 
their  present  occupants  from  us,  and  to  think  mourn 
fully  of  the  still  wider  variance  that  separated  their 
allotment  from  ours.  Strange  as  it  may  appear, 
scenes  and  woes  like  those  pressing  upon  us  had  a 
power  to  bind  all  sensitiveness  about  our  fate.  In 
deed,  indifference  is  the  last  retreat  of  desperation. 

The  recklessness  observed  in  the  Indians,  their  habits 

9 


132    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

of  subsistence,  and  all  their  manner  and  "bearing 
toward  their  captives,  could  lead  them  only  to  ex 
pect  that  by  starvation  or  assassination  they  must 
soon  become  the  victims  of  a  brutal  fate. 

"  On  the  third  day  we  came  suddenly  in  sight  of  a 
cluster  of  low,  thatched  huts,  each  having  an  opening 
near  the  ground  leading  into  them/' 

It  was  soon  visible  from  the  flashing  eyes  and  ani 
mated  countenances  of  the  Indians,  that  they  were 
nearing  some  place  of  attraction,  and  to  which  anx 
ious  and  interesting  desire  had  been  pointing.  To 
two  young  girls,  having  traveled  on  foot  two  hun 
dred  miles  in  three  days ;  with  swollen  feet  and 
limbs,  lame,  exhausted,  not  yet  four  days  remove 
from  the  loss  of  parents,  brothers,  and  sisters,  and 
torn  from  them,  too,  in  the  most  brutal  manner ; 
away  in  the  deeps  of  forests  and  mountains,  upon 
the  desolation  of  which  the  glad  light  or  sound  of 
civilization  never  yet  broke ;  with  no  guides  or  pro 
tectors,  rudely,  inhumanly  driven  by  untutored,  un 
tamed  savages,  the  sight  of  the  dwelling-places  of 
man,  however  coarse  or  unseemly,  was  no  very  un 
welcome  scene.  With  all  the  dread  possibilities, 
therefore,  that  might  await  them  at  any  moment, 
nevertheless  to  get  even  into  an  Indian  camp  was 
home. 

"We  were  soon  ushered  into  camp,  amid  shouts 
and  song,  wild  dancing,  and  the  crudest,  most  irregu 
lar  music  that  ever  ranter  sung,  or  delighted  the  ear 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         133 


of  an  unrestrained  superstition.  They  lifted  us  on 
the  top  of  a  pile  of  brush  and  bark,  then  formed  a 
circle  about  us  of  men,  women,  and  children  of  all 
ages  and  sizes,  some  naked,  some  dressed  in  blankets, 
some  in  skins,  some  in  bark.  Music  then  com 
menced,  which  consisted  of  pounding  upon  stones 
with  clubs  and  horn,  and  the  drawing  of  a  small 
string  like  a  fiddle-bow  across  distended  bark.  They 
ran,  and  jumped,  and  danced  in  the  wildest  and  most 
furious  manner  about  us,  but  keeping  a  regular  circle. 


134    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMONG 

Each,  on  coming  to  a  certain  point  in  the  circle, 
marked  by  a  removed  piece  of  turf  in  the  ground, 
would  bend  himself  or  herself  nearly  to  the  ground, 
uttering  at  the  same  time  a  most  frightful  yell,  and 
making  a  violent  gesticulation  and  stamping.  Fre 
quently  on  coming  near  us,  as  they  would  do  in  each 
evolution,  they  would  spit  in  our  face,  throw  dirt 
upon  us,  or  slightly  strike  us  with  their  hand,  man 
aging,  by  every  possible  means,  to  give  us  an  early 
and  thorough  impression  of  their  barbarity,  cruelty, 
and  obscenity.  The  little  boys  and  girls,  especially, 
would  make  the  older  ones  merry  by  thus  taunting 
ns.  It  seemed  during  all  this  wild  and  disgusting 
performance,  that  their  main  ambition  was  to  exhibit 
their  superiority  over  us,  and  the  low,  earnest,  intense 
hate  they  bore  toward  our  race.  And  this  they  most 
effectually  succeeded  in  accomplishing,  together  with 
a  disgusting  view  of  the  obscenity,  vulgarity,  and 
grossness  of  their  hearts,  and  the  mean,  despicable, 
revengeful  dispositions  that  burn  with  hellish  fury 
within  their  untamed  bosoms. 

"We  soon  saw  that  these  bravadoes  had  made 
themselves  great  men  at  home.  They  had  made 
themselves  a  name  by  the  exploits  of  the  past  week. 
They  had  wantonly  set  upon  a  laboring  family  of 
nine  persons,  unprotected,  and  worn  to  fatigue  by  the 
toils  of  a  long  journey,  without  any  mode  of  defense, 
and  had  inhumanly  slaughtered  seven  of  them,  taken 
two  inoffensive  girls  into  a  barbarous  captivity,  and 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         135 

drove  them  two  hundred  miles  in  three  days  without 
that  mercy  which  civilization  awards  to  the  brute ; 
taken  a  few  sacks  of  smoked,  soot-covered  cow-meat, 
a  few  beans,  a  little  clothing,  and  one  horse!  By 
their  account,  and  we  afterward  ascertained  that  they 
have  a  mode  of  calculating  distances  with  wonderful 
accuracy,  we  had  come  indeed  over  two  hundred  and 
fifty  miles,  inside  of  eighty  hours. 

"  This  may  seem  incredible  to  the  reader,  but  the 
rate  at  which  we  were  hurried  on,  the  little  rest  that 
was  granted,  and  subsequent  knowledge  gained  of 
their  traveling  rate,  confirms  the  assertion  made  by 
themselves  as  to  the  distance. 

"We  found  the  tribe  to  consist  of  about  three 
hundred,  living  in  all  the  extremes  of  filth  and  deg 
radation  that  the  most  abandoned  humanity  ever 
fathomed.  Little  had  the  inexperience  and  totally 
different  habits  of  life,  from  which  these  reflections 
are  made,  of  the  knowledge  or  judgment  to  imagine 
or  picture  the  low  grossness  to  which  unrestrained, 
uneducated  passions  can  sink  the  human  heart  and 
life.  Their  mode  of  dress,  (but  little  dress  they  had  !) 
was  needlessly  and  shockingly  indecent,  when  the  ma 
terial  of  which  their  scanty  clothing  consists  would, 
by  an  industrious  habit  and  hand,  have  clothed  them 
to  the  dictates  of  comfort  and  modesty. 

"  They  subsisted  principally  upon  deer,  quail,  and 
rabbit,  with  an  occasional  mixture  of  roots  from  the 
ground.  And  even  this  dealt  out  with  the  most 


136    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIRLS 


sparing  and  parsimonious  hand,  and  in  quantity  only 
up  to  a  stern  necessity;  and  this,  not  because  of  pov 
erty  in  the  supply,  but  to  feed  and  gratify  a  laziness 
that  would  not  gather  or  hunt  it. 

"  It  was  only  when  the  insatiable  and  half-starved 
appetite  of  the  members  was  satisfied,  when  unusual 
abundance  chanced  to  come  in,  that  their  captives 
could  be  allowed  a  morsel  ;  and  then  their  chance 
was  that  of  the  dogs,  with  whom  they  might  share 
the  crumbs.  Their  meat  was  boiled  with  water  in  a 
'Tusquin,'  (clay  kettle,)  and  this  meat-mush  or  soup 
was  the  staple  of  food  among  them,  and  of  this  they 
were  frequently  short,  and  obliged  to  quiet  them 
selves  with  meted  out  allowance  ;  to  their  captives  it 
was  always  thus  meted  out.  At  times  game  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  was  scarce,  and  their  indolence 
would  not  let  them  go  forth  to  the  chase  upon  the 
mountains  and  in  the  valleys  a  little  distance,  where 
they  acknowledged  it  plenty,  only  in  cases  of  im 
pending  starvation.  During  the  time  of  captivity 
among  them,  very  frequently  were  whole  days  spent 
without  a  morsel,  and  then  when  the  hunter  returned 
with  game,  he  was  surrounded  with  crowds  hungry 
as  a  pack  of  wolves  to  devour  it,  and  the  bits  and 
leavings  were  tauntingly  thrown  to  '  Onatas,'  saying, 
'  You  have  been  fed  too  well  ;  we  will  teach  you  to 
live  on  little.'  Besides  all  this,  they  were  disbelievers 
in  the  propriety  of  treating  female  youth  to  meat,  or 
of  allowing  it  to  become  their  article  of  subsistence  ; 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIANS. 

which,  considering  their  main  reliance  as  a  tribe 
upon  game,  was  equal  to  dooming  their  females  to 
starvation.  And  this  result  of  their  theory  became  a 
mournful  and  constantly  recurring  fact.  According 
to  their  physiology  the  female,  especially  the  young 
female,  should  be  allowed  meat  only  when  necessary 
to  prevent  starvation.  Their  own  female  children 
frequently  died,  and  those  alive,  old  and  young,  were 
sickly  and  dwarfish  generally. 

"Several  times  were  their  late  captives  brought 
near  a  horrid  death  ere  they  could  be  persuaded  to 
so  waive  their  superstitious  notions  as  to  give  them  a 
saving  crumb. 

"These  Apaches  were  without  any  settled  habits 
of  industry.  They  tilled  not.  It  was  a  marvel  to 
see  how  little  was  required  to  keep  them  alive ;  yet 
they  were  capable  of  the  greatest  endurance  when 
occasion  taxed  their  strength.  They  ate  worms, 
grasshoppers,  reptiles,  all  flesli^  and  were,  perhaps, 
living  exhibitions  of  a  certain  theory  by  which  the 
nature  of  the  animal  eaten  leaves  its  imprint  upon 
the  man  or  human  being  who  devours  it.  For  whole 
days,  when  scarcely  a  morsel  for  another  meal  was  in 
the  camp,  would  those  stout,  robust,  lazy  lumps  of  a 
degraded  humanity  lounge  in  the  sun  or  by  the  gur 
gling  spring ;  at  noon  in  the  shade  or  on  the  shelves 
of  the  mountains  surrounding,  utterly  reckless  of  their 
situation,  or  of  the  doom  their  idleness  might  bring 
upon  the  whole  tribe.  Their  women  were  the  labor- 


138     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIKLS  AMONG 

ers  and  principal  burden-bearers,  and  during  all  our 
captivity,"  says  Olive,  "  it  was  our  lot  to  serve  under 
these  enslaved  women,  with  a  severity  more  intolera 
ble  than  that  to  which  they  were  subjected  by  their 
merciless  lords.  They  invented  modes,  and  seemed 
to  create  necessities  of  labor,  that  they  might  gratify 
themselves  by  taxing  us  to  the  utmost,  and  even  took 
unwarranted  delight  in  whipping  us  on  beyond  our 
strength.  And  all  their  requests  and  exactions  were 
couched  in  the  most  insulting  and  taunting  language 
and  manner,  as  it  then  seemed,  and  as  they  had  the 
frankness  soon  to  confess,  to  fume  their  hate  against 
the  race  to  whom  we  belonged. 

"Often  under  the  frown  and  lash  were  we  com 
pelled  to  labor  for  whole  days  upon  an  allowance 
amply  sufficient  to  starve  a  common  dandy  civilized 
idler,  and  those  days  of  toil  wrung  out  at  the  instance 
of  children  younger  than  ourselves,  who  were  set  as 
our  task-masters.  They  knew  nothing  of  cultivating 
the  soil.  After  we  had  learned  their  language  enough 
to  talk  with  them,  we  ventured  to  speak  to  them  of 
the  way  by  which  we  had  lived,  of  the  tilling  of  the 
ground. 

"  They  had  soil  that  might  have  produced,  but  most 
of  them  had  an  abhorrence  of  all  that  might  be  said 
of  the  superior  blessings  of  industry  and  the  Ameri 
can  civilization.  Yet  there  were  those,  especially 
among  the  females  and  the  younger  members  of  the 
tribe,  who  asked  frequent  questions,  and  with  eager- 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         139 

ness,  of  our  mode  of  life.  For  some  time  after  com 
ing  among  them,  Mary  Ann  was  very  ill.  The 
fatigue,  the  cruelties  of  the  journey,  nearly  cost  her 
her  life ;  yet  in  all  her  weakness,  sickness,  and  pin- 
ings,  they  treated  her  with  all  the  heartlessness  of  a 
dog.  She  would  often  say  to  me :  '  Olive,  I  must 
starve  unless  I  can  get  something  more  to  eat ;'  yet  it 
was  only  when  she  was  utterly  disabled  that  they 
would  allow  her  a  respite  from  some  daily  menial 
service.  We  have  often  taken  the  time  which  was 
given  to  gather  roots  for  our  lazy  captors,  to  gather 
and  eat  ourselves ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  supplies 
obtained  by  such  means,  we  must  have  perished. 
But  the  physical  sufferings  of  this  state  were  light 
when  compared  with  the  fear  and  anguish  of  mind ; 
the  bitter  fate  upon  us,  the  dismal  remembrances 
that  harassed  us,  the  knowledge  of  a  bright  past 
and  a  dark  future  by  which  we  were  compassed, 
these,  all  these  belabored  every  waking  moment,  and 
crowded  the  wonted  hours  of  sleep  with  terrible  fore 
bodings  of  a  worse  fate  still  ahead.  Each  day  seemed 
to  be  allotted  its  own  peculiar  woes ;  some  circum 
stance,  some  new  event  would  arise,  touching  and 
enkindling  its  own  class  of  bitter  emotions.  We 
were  compelled  to  heed  every  whimper  and  cry  of 
their  little  urchins  with  promptness,  and  fully,  under 
no  less  penalty  than  a  severe  beating,  and  that  in 
the  most  severe  manner.  These  every-day  usages 
and  occurrences  would  awaken  thorny  reflections 


140     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

upon  our  changed  and  prison  life.  There  was  no 
beauty,  no  loveliness,  no  attractions  in  the  country 
possessed  by  these  unlovely  creatures  to  make  it 
pleasant,  if  there  had  been  the  blotting  out  of  all  the 
dreadful  realities  that  had  marked  our  way  to  it,  or 
the  absence  of  the  cruelties  that  made  our  stay  a  liv 
ing  death.  Often  has  my  little  sister  come  to  me 
with  a  heart  surcharged  with  grief,  and  the  big  tears 
standing  in  her  eye,  or  perhaps  sobbing  most  con 
vulsively  over  the  maltreatment  and  chastisement 
that  had  met  her  good  intentions,  for  she  ever  tried 
to  please  them,  and  most  piteously  would  she  say : 
'  How  long,  O  how  .long,  dear  Olive,  must  we  stay 
here ;  can  we  never  get  away  ?  do  you  not  think  they 
intend  to  kill  us  ?  O  !  they  are  so  ugly  and  savage  !' 
Sometimes  I  would  tell  her  that  I  saw  but  little 
chance  for  escape;  that  we  had  better  be  good  and 
ready  for  any  fate,  and  try  to  wait  in  submission  for 
our  lot. 

"  She  would  dry  her  eyes,  wipe  the  tears  away,  and 
not  seldom  have  I  known  her  to  return  with  a  look 
of  pensive  thoughtfulness,  and  that  eye,  bright  and 
glistening  with  the  light  of  a  new-born  thought,  as  she 
would  say :  <  I  know  what  we  can  do ;  we  can  ask 
God.  He  can  deliver  us,  or  give  us  grace  to  bear 
our  troubles.'  It  was  our  custom  to  go  by  ourselves 
and  commit  ourselves  to  God  in  faithful  prayer  every 
day ;  and  this  we  would  do  after  we  laid  our  weary 
frames  upon  our  sand  bed  to  rest,  if  no  other  oppor 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         141 

tunity  offered.  This  custom  had  been  inculcated  in 
us  by  a  fond  and  devoted  mother,  and  well  now  did 
we  remember  with  what  affection  she  assured  us  that 
we  would  find  it  a  comfort  and  support  to  thus  carry 
our  trials  and  troubles  to  our  heavenly  Father  in  after 
years;  though  little  did  she  realize  the  exceedingly 
bitter  grief  that  would  make  these  lessons  of  piety  so 
sweet  to  our  hearts.  Too  sadly  did  they  prove  true. 
Often  were  the  times  when  we  were  sent  some  dis 
tance  to  bring  water  and  wood  for  the  comfort  of 
lazy  men,  selected  for  the  grateful  observance  of  this 
only  joyful  employment  that  occupied  any  of  those 
dark  days. 

"Seldom  during  our  stay  here  were  we  cheered 
with  any  knowledge  or  circumstance  that  bid  us  hope 
for  our  escape.  Hours  were  spent  by  us  in  talking 
of  trying  the  experiment.  Mary  often  would  say :  *  I 
can  find  the  way  out,  and  I  can  go  the  whole  distance 
as  quick  as  they.'  Several  times,  after  cruel  treat 
ment,  or  the  passing  of  danger  from  starvation,  have 
we  made  the  resolution,  and  set  the  time  for  execu 
ting  it,  but  were  not  bold  enough  to  undertake  it. 
Yet  we  were  not  without  all  or  any  hope.  A  word 
dropped  by  our  captors  concerning  their  occasional 
trips,  made  by  small  bands  of  them  to  some  region 
of  the  whites,  some  knowledge  we  would  accident 
ally  gain  of  our  latitude  and  locality,  would  ani 
mate  our  breasts  with  the  hope  of  a  future  relief, 
breaking  like  a  small  ray  of  light  from  some  distant 


142       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMONG 

luminous  object  upon  the  eye  of  our  faith.  But  it 
was  only  when  our  minds  dwelt  upon  the  power  of 
the  Highest,  on  an  overruling  Providence,  that  we 
could  feel  that  there  was  any  possibility  of  an  extri 
cation  from  our  uncheered  prison  life. 

"  After  we  had  been  among  these  Apaches  several 
months,  their  conduct  toward  us  somewhat  changed. 
They  became  more  lenient  and  merciful,  especially  to 
my  sister.  She  always  met  their  abuse  with  a  mild, 
patient  spirit  and  deportment,  and  with  an  intrepidity 
and  fortitude  beyond  what  might  have  been  expected 
from  her  age.  This  spirit,  which  she  always  bore,  I 
could  plainly  see  was  working  its  effect  upon  some 
of  them ;  so  that,  especially  on  the  part  of  those  fe 
males  connected  in  some  way  with  the  household  of 
the  chief,  and  who  had  the  principal  control  of  us,  we 
could  plainly  see  more  forbearance,  kindness,  and 
interest  exhibited  toward  their  captives.  This,  slight 
as  was  the  change,  was  a  great  relief  to  my  mind, 
and  comfort  to  Mary  Ann.  We  had  learned  their 
language  so  as  to  hold  converse  with  them  quite 
understandingly,  after  a  few  months  among  them. 
They  were  much  disposed  at  times  to  draw  us  into 
conversation ;  they  asked  our  ages,  inquired  after 
our  former  place  of  living,  and  when  we  told  them 
of  the  distance  we  had  come  to  reach  our  home 
among  them,  they  greatly  marveled.  They  would 
gather  about  us  frequently  in  large  numbers,  and  ply 
their  curious  questions  with  eagerness  and  seeming 


THE   APACHE    AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.       143 

interest,  asking  how  many  of  the  white  folks  there 
were  ;  how  far  the  big  ocean  extended  ;  and  on  being 
told  of  the  two  main  oceans,  they  asked  if  the  whites 
possessed  the  other  big  world  on  the  east  of  the  At 
lantic  ;  if  there  were  any  Indians  there  ;  particularly 
they  would  question  us  as  to  the  number  of  the 
'  Americanos,'  (this  term  they  obtained  among  the 
Mexicans,  and  it  was  the  one  by  which  they  invaria 
bly  designated  our  people.)  When  we  told  them  of 
the  number  of  the  whites,  and  of  their  rapid  increase, 
they  were  apparently  incredulous,  and  some  of  them 
would  become  angry,  and  accuse  us  of  lying,  and 
wishing  to  make  them  believe  a  lie.  They  wanted 
to  know  how  women  were  treated,  and  if  a  man  was 
allowed  more  than  one  wife  ;  inquired  particularly 
how  and  by  what  means  a  subsistence  was  gained  by 
us.  In  this  latter  question  we  could  discern  an  inter 
est  that  did  not  inspire  any  of  their  other  queries. 
Bad  as  they  are,  they  are  very  curious  to  know  the 
secret  of  the  success  and  increase  of  the  whites.  We 
tried  to  tell  them  of  the  knowledge  the  whites  pos 
sessed,  of  the  well-founded  belief  they  had  that  the 
stars  above  us  were  peopled  by  human  beings, 
and  of  the  fact  that  the  distance  to  these  far-off 
worlds  had  been  measured  by  the  whites.  They 
wished  to  know  if  any  of  us  had  been  there ;  this 
they  asked  in  a  taunting  manner,  exhibiting  in  irony 
and  sarcasm  their  incredulity  as  to  the  statement, 
over  which  they  made  much  sport  and  ridicule. 


144       CAPTIVITY   OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG- 

They  said  if  the  stars  were  inhabited,  the  people 
would  drop  out,  and  hence  they  knew  that  this  was  a 
lie.  I  found  the  months  and  years  in  which  I  had 
been  kept  in  school,  not  altogether  useless  in  answer 
ing  their  questions.  I  told  them  that  the  earth 
turned  round  every  twenty-four  hours,  and  also  of  its 
traveling  about  the  sun  every  year.  Upon  this  they 
said  we  were  just  like  all  the  Americanos,  big  liars, 
and  seemed  to  think  that  our  parents  had  begun 
young  with  us  to  learn  us  so  perfectly  the  art  of  false 
hood  so  early.  But  still  we  could  see,  through  all  their 
accusations  of  falsehood,  by  their  astonishment,  and 
discussion,  and  arguments  upon  the  matter  of  our  con 
versation,  they  were  not  wholly  unbelieving.  They 
would  tell  us,  however,  that  an  '  evil  spirit '  reigned 
among  the  whites,  and  that  he  was  leading  them  on 
to  destruction.  They  seemed  sincere  in  their  belief 
that  there  were  scarcely  any  of  the  whites  that  could 
be  trusted,  but  that  they  had  evil  assistance,  which 
made  them  great  and  powerful.  As  to  any  system 
of  religion  or  morality,  they  seemed  to  be  beneath  it. 
But  we  found,  though  the  daily  tasks  upon  us  were 
not  abated,  yet  our  condition  was  greatly  mollified ; 
and  we  had  become  objects  of  their  growing  curi 
osity,  mere  playthings,  over  which  they,  could  make 
merry. 

"  They  are  much  given  to  humor  and  fun,  but  it 
generally  descends  to  low  obscenity  and  meanness. 
They  had  great  contempt  for  one  that  would  com- 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       145 

plain  under  torture  or  suffering,  even  though  of  their 
own  tribe,  and  said  a  person  that  could  not  uncom 
plainingly  endure  suffering  was  not  fit  to  live.  They 
asked  us  if  we  wanted  to  get  away,  and  tried  by 
every  stratagem  to  extort  from  us  our  feelings  as  to 
our  captivity  ;  but  we  were  not  long  in  learning  that 
any  expression  of  discontent  was  the  signal  for  new 
toils,  and  tasks,  and  grievances.  We  made  the  res 
olution  between  us  to  avoid  any  expression  of  dis 
content,  which,  at  times,  it  cost  us  no  small  effort  to 
keep. 

"  We  learned  that  this  tribe  was  a  detached  parcel 
of  the  old  and  more  numerous  tribe  bearing  their 
name,  and  whose  locality  was  in  the  regions  of  New- 
Mexico.  They  had  become  in  years  gone,  impatient 
of  the  restraint  put  upon  them  by  the  Catholic  mis 
sionaries,  and  had  resolved  upon  emancipation  from 
their  control,  and  had  accordingly  sought  a  home  in 
the  wild  fastnesses  of  these  northern  mountains.  The 
old  tribe  had  since  given  them  the  name  of  the 
'Touto  Apaches,'  an  appellation  signifying  their 
unruliness,  as  well  as  their  roving  and  piratical 
habits.  They  said  that  tne  old  tribe  was  much  more 
wicked  than  themselves,  and  that  they  would  be 
destroyed  by  the  whites." 

Beyond  the  manuscript  touching  the  geography 
and  appearance  of  the  country  where  the  scenes  of 
this  book  were  laid,  and  which  was  prepared  for  pre 
vious  editions,  there  is  considerable  concerning  the 


146      CAPTIVITY   OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

peculiar  superstitions  and  crude  beliefs  of  these  In 
dians,  as  well  as  upon  histories  treasured  up  by  them 
touching  their  tribes  and  individual  members  of 
them,  which  we  believe  would  be  read  with  interest, 
but  scarcely  a  tithe  of  which  can  we  give  without 
swelling  this  book  beyond  all  due  bounds.  Of  these 
histories  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  more  than  mere 
scraps  could  have  been  gleaned  by  Olive,  when  we 
remember  her  age,  and  that  all  that  is  remembered 
is  from  mere  verbal  recital. 

The  Indians  would  congregate  on  evenings  set 
apart,  when  one  of  their  number,  most  in  years  and 
of  prominent  position,  would  entertain  the  company 
with  a  narration,  frequently  long  and  tedious,  of  the 
adventures  of  his  youthful  days.  On  one  of  these 
occasions  an  old  Indian  spoke  as  follows :  "I  am  the 
son  of  an  Indian  who  was  chief  of  the  Camanche  tribe. 
I  had  heard  often  of  the  white  people.  I  longed  to 
see  one.  I  was  told  by  my  father  one  day  that  I 
might,  with  some  of  the  warriors  of  the  tribe,  go  on  a 
hunt  to  the  north,  and  also  that  we  would  probably 
find  some  white  people;  if  so,  that  we  must  kill 
them,  and  bring  in  their  scalps  with  any  white  cap 
tive  girls  if  we  could  find  them.  "We  had  so  many 
(counting  his  fingers  up  to  three)  bows  and  so  many 
(forty-eight)  arrows  each. 

"  The  most  of  my  desire  was  to  see  and  kill  a  white 
man,  and  take  some  captives.  We  traveled  a  very 
long  way.  We  passed  through  several  tribes  of  In- 


T1IE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       14*7 

dians.  We  found,  according  to  the  accounts  of  some 
Indians  away  to  the  north,  that  there  were  white  peo 
ple  near  them,  but  that  we  must  not  touch  them  ;  that 
they  were  friendly  and  traded  with  themselves;  that 
some  of  their  squaws  were  married  to  them ;  that 
they  (the  whites)  came  from  the  great  Auhah  (sea)  to 
the  setting  sun.  One  day,  about  dark,  we  came  in 
view  of  an  object  that  we  thought  at  first  to  be  a 
bear.  We  soon  found  it  was  a  man.  We  waited 
and  skulked  for  some  time  to  find  out,  if  possible, 
whether  it  was  a  man,  and  how  many  of  them  there 
were.  We  stayed  all  night  in  this  condition,  and  it 
was  very  cold.  Just  before  fair  day,  we  moved 
slowly  round  the  place  where  we  had  seen  the 
object.  As  we  thought  we  had  got  past  it  and  not 
espied  anything,  we  concluded  to  go  on,  when  we 
were  suddenly  met  by  a  huge-looking  thing  with  a 
covering  (skin)  such  as  we  had  never  before  seen. 
We  were  surprised  and  did  not  know  what  to  do.  It 
was  partly  behind  a  rock,  and  we  were  too  much 
scared  to  draw  our  bows.  After  a  word  together, 
(there  were  four  of  us,)  we  concluded  to  run.  So  we 
started.  We  had  not  gone  far  when  an  Indian 
jumped  out  after  us,  threw  an  umsupieque  (white 
blanket)  from  his  head,  and  called  to  us  to  stop. 
We  had  never  seen  this  umsupieque  before.  We 
were  very  much  ashamed.  We  thought  at  first,  and 
when  we  ran,  that  some  of  our  friends  had  been 

killed  and  had  come  (or  their  ghosts)  to  meet  us. 

10 


148       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

The  Indian,  a  Chimowanan,  came  up  to  us,  and  be 
gan  to  laugh  at  our  bravery!  We  were  much 
ashamed,  but  we  could  not  help  it  now.  We  left  the 
Indian,  after  making  him  promise  that  he  would  not 
tell  of  us. 

"When  we  had  traveled  one  day,  with  no  game 
or  anything  to  eat,  we  came  to  a  small  house  built 
of  wood.  We  thought  it  the  house  of  a  white  man. 
We  skulked  in  the  bushes,  and  thought  we  would 
watch  it  until  they  should  come  out,  or,  if  away, 
come  home.  We  waited  one  day  and  two  nights, 
eating  nothing  but  a  few  roots.  We  saw  no  one, 
so  we  set  fire  to  the  house  and  went  on.  We 
were  more  afraid  of  the  Indians  than  the  whites, 
for  they  had  said  they  would  kill  us  if  we  touched 
the  whites.  A  few  days  after  this  we  saw  another 
house ;  we  watched  that  a  long  time,  then  burned  it, 
and  started  for  home.  This  is  all  we  did.  When  we 
came  home  our  tribe  turned  out  to  see  us,  and  hear 
of  our  war-hunt.  We  had  but  little  to  say. 

"  The  next  year,  the  Indian  who  had  scared  us 
with  the  white  blanket,  came  among  us.  I  saw  him, 
and  made  him  promise  not  to  tell  my  father  what 
a  coward  I  had  shown  myself  when  I  met  him ;  but 
I  soon  found  that  all  the  tribe  knew  all  about  it. 
When  the  tribe  were  gathered  together  one  day  for  a 
dance,  they  laughed  at  me  and  about  me  for  my  run 
ning  from  the  Indian.  I  found  that  the  Indian  had  told 
"some  of  the  tribe,  and  they  had  told  my  father. 


THE   APACHE    AXD    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       149 

My  father  joined  with  the  rest  in  making  fun  of  me 
for  it.  I  blamed  him,  and  felt  mad  enough  to  kill 
him.  He  found  it  out,  so,  just  before  we  separated, 
he  called  them  all  together,  and  told  them  that  he 
had  displeased  his  son  by  what  he  had  said  of  me, 
and  now  he  wanted  to  make  it  all  right.  He  said, 
just  before  he  sat  down,  that  if  ever  they  should  be 
attacked,  he  should  feel  that  they  were  safe,  that  he 
knew  his  son  and  those  who  went  north  to  kill  white 
people  would  be  safe,  for  they  had  shown  themselves 
good  at  running.  This  maddened  me  more  than 
ever,  and  up  to  this  day  I  have  not  heard  the  last  of 
my  running  from  the  Indian.  I  am  now  old,  my 
head  is  nearly  bald,  the  hairs  that  have  fallen  from  my 
head  have  grown  up  to  be  some  of  these  I  now  see 
about  me.  I  shall  soon  go  to  yonder  hill.  I  want 
you  to  burn  my  bow  and  arrow  with  my  body,  so 
that  I  can  hunt  up  there." 

"The  'Toutos'  had,  however,  for  a  long  time  oc 
cupied  their  present  position,  and  almost  the  only 
tribe  with  whom  they  had  any  intercourse  was  the 
Mohaves,  (Mo-ha-vays,)  a  tribe  numbering  about 
twelve  hundred,  and  located  three  hundred  miles  to 
the  northwest. 

"  There  were  many,  however,  who  had  come  from 
other  and  different  tribes.  Some  from  the  north, 
some  from  the  south  and  southwest.  Hence  there 
was  a  marked  distinction  among  their  features  and 
appearance.  It  seemed  from  what  we  could  learn 


150       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIELS  AMONG 

that  this  Teuton  tribe,  or  secession  fragment,  had 
from  their  villianous  propensities  fled  to  this  hiding- 
place,  and  since  their  separation  been  joined  by 
scattered  members  and  stray  families  from  other 
tribes,  persons  whom  Touton  bands  had  fallen  in 
with  during  their  depredating  trips  abroad,  and 
who  from  community  of  feeling  and  life  had  thus 
amalgamated  together. 

"  For  a  few  years  constant  traffic  had  been  kept  up 
between  the  Mohaves  and  Toutons.  The  Mohaves 
made  an  expedition  once  a  year,  sometimes  oftener, 
to  the  Apaches,  in  small  companies,  bringing  with 
them  vegetables,  grain,  and  the  various  products  of 
their  soil,  which  they  would  exchange  with  the  Apa 
ches  for  fur,  skins  of  animals,  and  all  of  the  few  arti 
cles  that  their  different  mode  of  life  furnished.  Dur 
ing  the  autumn  of  1851,  late  in  the  season,  quite  a 
large  company  of  Mohaves  came  among  us  on  a 
trading  expedition.  But  the  whole  transactions  of 
one  of  these  expeditions  did  not  comprise  the 
amount  of  wealth  or  business  of  one  hour's  ordinary 
shopping  of  a  country  girl.  This  was  the  first  ac 
quaintance  we  had  with  those  superior  Indians. 
During  their  stay  we  had  some  faint  hints  that  it  was 
meditated  to  sell  us  to  the  Mohaves  in  exchange  for 
vegetables,  which  they  no  doubt  regarded  as  more 
useful  for  immediate  consumption  than  their  captives. 
But  still  it  was  only  a  hint  that  had  been  given  us, 
and  the  curiosity  and  anxiety  it  created  soon  van- 


THE    APACHE    AND   MOHAYE   INDIANS.       151 

islied,  and  we  sank  again  into  the  daily  drudging 
routine  of  our  dark  prison  life.  Months  rolled  by, 
finding  us  early  and  late  at  our  burden-bearing  and 
torturing  labors,  plying  hands  and  feet  to  heed  the 
demands  of  our  lazy  lords,  and  the  taunts  and  ex 
actions  of  a  swarm  of  heathen  urchins,  sometimes  set 
over  us.  But  since  the  coming  of  these  Mohaves  a 
new  question  had  been  presented,  and  a  new  source 
of  anxious  solicitude  had  been  opened.  Hours  at  a 
time  were  spent  apart,  dwelling  upon  and  convers 
ing  about  the  possibilities  and  probabilities,  with  all 
the  gravity  of  men  in  the  council  of  state,  of  our 
being  sold  to  another  tribe,  and  what  might  be  its 
effects  upon  us.  At  times  it  was  considered  as  the  pos 
sible  means  by  which  an  utter  and  hopeless  bondage 
might  be  sealed  upon  us  for  life.  It  was  seen  plainly 
that  the  love  of  traffic  predominated  among  these 
barbarous  hordes;  that  the  lives  of  their  captives 
would  be  but  a  small  weight  in  the  balance,  if  they 
interfered  with  their  lust  of  war  or  conquest,  if  gain 
without  toil  might  be  gratified.  It  was  feared  that 
the  deep-seated  hostility  which  they  bore  to  the 
white  race,  the  contempt  which  they  manifested  to 
their  captives,  united  with  the  fear  (which  their  con 
duct  had  more  than  once  exhibited)  that  they  might 
be  left  without  that  constant,  vigilant  oversight  that 
was  so  great  a  tax  upon  their  indolence  to  maintain 
over  them,  that  they  might  return  to  their  own 
people  and  tell  the  tale  of  their  sufferings  and  cap- 


152      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMONG 

tivity,  and  thus  bring  down  upon  them  the  vengeance 
of  the  whites ;  that  all  these  causes  might  induce 
them  to  sell  their  captives  to  the  most  inaccessible 
tribe,  and  thus  consign  them  to  a  captivity  upon 
which  the  light  of  hope  or  the  prospect  of  escape 
could  not  shine." 

On  a  little  mound,  a  short  distance  from  the  clus 
tered,  smoking  wigwams,  constituting  the  Apache 
village,  on  a  pleasant  day,  see  these  two  captive 
girls,  their  root  baskets  laid  aside,  and  side  by  side 
upon  the  ground,  sitting  down  to  a  few  moments' 
conversation.  They  talk  of  the  year  that  has  now 
nearly  closed,  the  first  of  their  captivity,  the  bitter 
ness  that  had  mingled  in  the  cup  of  its  allotment,  of 
their  dead,  who  had  now  slept  one  year  of  their  last 
sleep,  and  with  much  concern  they  are  now  querying 
about  what  might  be  the  intentions  of  the  Mohaves 
in  their  daily  expected  coming  again  so  soon  among 
the  Apaches. 

Mary  Ann  says :  "  I  believe  they  will  sell  us ;  I 
overheard  one  of  the  chiefs  say  something  the  other 
day  in  his  wigwam,  about  our  going  among  the  Mo- 
haves,  and  it  was  with  some  words  about  their  ex 
pected  return.  I  do  not  know,  but  from  what  I  saw 
of  them  I  think  they  know  more,  and  live  better 
than  these  miserable  Apaches." 

Olive.  "But  may  be  they  put  on  the  best  side 
when  here,  they  might  treat  us  worse  than  the 
Apaches." 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.    153 

M.  A.  "  O,  that  will  be  impossible  without  they 
kill  us,  and  if  we  cannot  escape,  the  sooner  we  die 
the  better.  I  wish,  Olive,  you  would  agree  to  it,  and 
we  will  start  to-night  and  try  to  make  our  escape." 

O.  "But  where  shall  we  go?  We  know  not  the 
way  we  came,  much  of  it  was  traveled  in  the  night, 
besides  this,  these  Indians  have  their  trails  well 
known  to  them,  leading  through  all  these  mountains, 
and  we  could  not  get  upon  one  where  they  would 
not  be  sure  to  head  us,  and  you  know  they  say  they 
have  spies  continually  out  to  let  the  tribe  know  when 
any  of  their  enemies  come  into  the  vicinity  of  their 
village." 

M.  A.  "  Well,  Olive,  how  often  have  you  told  me 
that  were  it  not  for  a  very  faint  hope  you  have 
of  getting  away,  and  your  concern  for  me,  you  would 
rather  die  than  live.  And  you  know  we  both  think 
they  intend  to  sell  us,  and  if  they  sell  us  to  these 
Mohaves  we  will  have  to  travel  three  hundred  miles, 
and  I  can  never  live  through  it.  I  have  a  severe 
cough  now,  and  almost  every  night  I  take  more  cold. 
Ma  always  said  'her  Mary  Ann  would  die  with  con 
sumption,'  but  she  did  not  think,  I  guess,  of  such  a 
consumption  as  this." 

"Poor  girl,"  thought  Olive,  half  aloud,  "how  her 
eyes  glisten,  how  her  cheeks  every  day  become  more 
spare  and  pale,  and  her  black,  flashing  eye  is  sinking 
into  her  head."  Olive  turned  her  head  carelessly, 
wiped  the  tear  from  her  eye,  and  looking  again  in 


154     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

the  upturned  face  of  her  sister,  said:  "Why,  Maiy, 
if  you  are  afraid  that  you  would  perish  in  traveling 
to  the  Mohave  country,  how  could  you  stand  the 
roving  day  and  night  among  the  hills,  and  we  should 
be  obliged,  you  know,  to  travel  away  from  the  trail 
for  a  week,  perhaps  a  month,  living  on  roots  ?" 

M.  A.  "  As  for  roots,  they  are  about  all  we  get 
now,  and  I  had  rather  live  on  them  in  trying  to  get 
away  than  in  staying  here,  or  being  driven  like  oxen 
again  three  hundred  miles." 

By  this  time  the  little  pale  face  of  her  sister 
kindled  with  such  an  enthusiasm  that  Olive  could 
hardly  avoid  expressing  the  effect  it  had  upon  her 
own  mind.  Mary  was  about  to  continue  when  her 
sister,  seeing  an  Indian  near  them,  bade  her  hush, 
and  they  were  about  to*  renew  their  work  when  Mary 
said :  "  Look !  who  are  those  ?  they  are  Indians,  they 
are  those  very  Mohaves !  See !  they  have  a  horse, 
and  there  is  a  squaw  among  them." 

The  Indian,  who  was  approaching  them,  had  by 
this  time  caught  a  view  of  them,  and  was  running  to 
camp  to  spread  the  news.  "  I  had,"  says  the  older, 
"  now  no  doubt  that  the  approaching  company  were 
Mohaves,  and  I  was  half  inclined  to  improve  the  ex 
citement  and  carelessness  that  would  prevail  for 
a  while  after  their  coming  among  us,  to  slip  away, 
taking  good  care  to  make  sure  of  a  piece  of  meat,  a 
few  roots,  and  something  to  kill  myself  with  if  I 
should  find  myself  about  falling  into  the  hands  of 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.        155 


pursuers.  But  in  more  sober  moments  we  thought  it 
well  that  this  fear  of  being  again  caught,  and  of  tor 
ture  they  would  be  sure  to  inflict,  if  we  should  be 
unsuccessful,  kept  us  from  such  a  desperate  step. 
The  Mohave  party  are  now  descending  a  slope  to  the 
Apache  village,  and  roaring,  yelling,  and  dancing 
prevail  through  the  gathering  crowd  of  Apaches. 
The  party  consisted  of  five  men,  and  a  young  woman 
under  twenty  years.  It  was  not  long  ere  two  of 
the  chiefs  came  to  us,  and  told  us  that  these  Mohaves 


156     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

bad  come  after  us,  according  to  a  contract  made  with 
them  at  a  previous  visit;  that  the  party  had  been 
back  to  obtain  the  sanction  of  Espaniole,  the  Mohave 
chief,  to  the  contract,  and  that  now  the  chief  had 
sent  his  own  daughter  to  witness  to  his  desire  to  pur 
chase  the  white  captives.  The  chief  had,  however, 
left  it  with  his  daughter  to  approve  or  annul  the 
contract  that  had  been  made." 

This  daughter  of  the  chief  was  a  beautiful,  mild, 
and  sympathizing  woman.  Her  conduct  and  be 
havior  toward  these  Apache  captives  bespoke  a  tutor 
ing,  and  intelligence,  and  sweetness  of  disposition  that 
won  their  interest  at  once.  She  could  use  the  Apache 
language  with  fluency,  and  was  thus  enabled  to  talk 
with  the  captives  for  whom  she  had  come.  She  told 
her  designs  to  them,  and  had  soon  settled  it  in  her 
mind  to  approve  the  contract  previously  made. 

During  that  evening  there  was  much  disquiet  and 
misrule  throughout  the  village.  The  agitated  and 
interested  captives,  though  having  been  informed 
that  all  the  negotiations  had  been  completed  for 
their  transfer,  were  much  perplexed  to  learn  the 
reasons  of  the  excitement  still  raging. 

There  was  a  studied  effort,  which  was  plainly  per 
ceived  by  them,  to  cover  the  matter  of  the  councils 
and  heated  debates,  which  occupied  the  whole  night 
from  them;  but,  by  remarks  which  reached  them 
from  different  ones,  they  learned  that  their  destiny 
was  in  a  very  critical  suspense.  There  was  a  strong 


THE   APACHE   AND   MOHAVE   INDIANS.        15? 

party  who  were  angrily  opposed  to  the  acceptance 
of  the  Mohave  propositions,  among  whom  were  the 
murderers  of  the  Oatman  family. 

Different  ones  sought  by  every  possible  means  to 
draw  out  the  feelings  of  their  captives  to  the  pro 
posed  removal.  One  in  particular,  a  young  Indian 
woman,  who  had  forced  a  disagreeable  intimacy  with 
Olive,  sought  to  make  her  say  that  she  would  rather 
go  to  the  Mohaves.  The  discretion  of  the  captive 
girl,  however,  proved  equal  to  the  treachery  of  the 
Indian  mistress,  and  no  words  of  complaint,  or  ex 
pressions  of  desire,  could  the  latter  glean  to  make  a 
perverted  report  of  at  head-quarters.  The  artful 
Miss  To-aquin  had  endeavored  from  the  first,  under 
friendly  pretenses,  to  acquaint  herself  with  the 
American  language,  and  succeeded  in  acquiring  a 
smattering  of  it.  But  her  eaves-dropping  propensi 
ties  had  made  the  intended  victims  of  her  treachery 
wary,  since  they  had  known,  in  several  instances,  of 
her  false  reports  and  tale-bearings  to  the  chief. 

"While  sitting  alone  by  a  small  fire  in  their  wig 
wam,  late  in  the  night,  this  Jezebel  came  and  seated 
herself  by  them,  and  with  her  smiles  and  rattling 
tongue,  feigning  an  anxious  interest  in  their  welfare, 
said,  in  substance : 

"  I  suppose  you  are  glad  you  are  going  to  the 
Mohaves?  But  I  always  hated  them;  they  will 
steal,  and  lie,  and  cheat.  Do  you  think  you  will  get 
away  ?  I  suppose  you  do.  But  these  miserable  Mo- 


158    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

haves  are  going  to  sell  you  to  another  tribe ;  if  they 
do  not,  it  will  not  be  long  ere  they  will  kill  you. 
O,  I  am  very  sad  because  you  are  going  away !  I 
hoped  to  see  you  free  in  a  short  time  ;  but  I  know 
you  will  never  get  back  to  the  whites  now.  Suppose 
you  will  try,  will  you  not  ?" 

Olive  replied :  "  We  are  captives,  and  since  our 
parents  and  all  our  kindred  are  dead,  it  matters  little 
where  we  are,  there  or  here.  We  are  treated  better 
than  we  deserve,  perhaps ;  and  we  shall  try  to 
behave  well,  let  them  treat  us  as  they  may ;  and  as 
to  getting  away,  you  know  it  would  be  impossible 
and  foolish  for  us  to  try." 

"  The  Mohave  party  professed  that  it  was  out  of 
kindness  to  us  that  they  had  come  to  take  us  with 
them;  that  they  knew  of  the  cruel  treatment  we 
were  suffering  among  the  Apaches,  and  intended  to 
use  us  well. 

"  This  would  all  have  been  very  comforting  to  us, 
and  it  was  only  to  us  they  made  this  plea,  had  we 
been  prepared  to  give  them  credit  for  the  absence  of 
that  treachery  which  had  been  found,  so  far,  as 
natural  to  an  Indian  as  his  breath.  But  their  natures 
do  not  grow  sincerity,  and  their  words  are  to  have 
no  weight  in  judging  of  their  characters.  To  us  it 
was  only  gloom  that  lay  upon  our  way,  whether  to 
the  Mohaves  or  to  stay  in  our  present  position. 
Their  real  design  it  was  useless  to  seek  to  read  until 
its  execution  came. 


THE    APACHE   AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       159 

"  Sunrise,  which  greeted  us  ere  we  had  a  moment's 
sleep,  found  the  party  prepared  to  leave,  and  we 
were  coolly  informed  by  our  captors  that  we  must 
go  with  them.  Two  horses,  a  few  vegetables,  a 
few  pounds  of  beads,  and  three  blankets  we  found 
to  be  our  price  in  that  market. 

"We  found  that  there  were  those  among  the 
Apaches  who  were  ready  to  tear  us  in  pieces  when 
we  left,  and  they  only  wanted  a  few  more  to  unite 
with  them,  to  put  an  end  to  our  lives  at  once. 
They  now  broke  forth  in  the  most  insulting  language 
to  us,  and  to  the  remainder  of  the  tribe  for  bargain 
ing  us  away.  Some  laughed,  a  few  among  the 
children,  who  had  received  a  care  and  attention  from 
us  denied  by  their  natural  parents,  cried,  and  a 
general  pow-wow  rent  the  air  as  we  started  upon 
another  three  hundred  miles'  trip." 


160     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAJST  GIBLS  AMONG 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  Journey  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  Miles  to  the  Mohave  Valley  — 
The  Means  of  Subsistence  during  the  Time  —  The  Conduct  of  the  Mo- 
haves  compared  with  the  Apaches  —  Arrive  at  the  Valley  —  The  Vil 
lage—The  Chief's  Eesidence  —  Their  Joy  at  the  Eeturn  of  Topeka, 
their  Daughter  —  The  Greeting  of  the  new  Captives  —  One  Year  of 
Labor  and  Suffering  —  The  Overflowing  of  the  Colorado  —  Their  De 
pendence  upon  it  —  Their  Habits  —  Ciiltivation  of  the  Soil  —  Scarcity 
of  Provisions  —  Starvation  —  Mary  Ann  —  Her  Decline  —  Olive's  Care, 
Grief,  and  Eiforts  to  save  her  life  —  Dies  of  Famine  —  Many  of  the 
Indian  Children  die  —  Burial  of  Mary  Ann  —  The  Sympathy  and  Sor 
row  of  the  Chiefs  Wife. 


were  informed  at  the  outset  that  we  had 
three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  before  us,  and  all 
to  be  made  on  foot.  Our  route  we  soon  found  to 
be  in  no  way  preferable  to  the  one  by  which  the 
Apache  village  had  been  reached.  It  was  now 
about  the  first  day  of  March,  1852.  One  year  had 
been  spent  by  us  in  a  condition  the  most  abject, 
the  most  desolate,  with  treatment  the  most  cruel 
that  barbarity  and  hate  could  invent,  and  this 
all  endured  without  the  privilege  of  a  word  from 
ourselves  to  turn  the  scale  in  this  direction  or  that, 
in  a  rugged,  rocky  country,  filled  with  bare  mount 
ains  or  lesser  hills  with  slight  vegetation,  and  th;i!; 
tame  and  tasteless,  or  irregular  piles  of  boulders  and 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         161 

gravel  beds ;  we  were  now  being  hurried  on  under 
Indian  guardianship  alone,  we  knew  not  where  nor 
for  what  purpose.  We  had  not  proceeded  far  ere  it 
was  painfully  impressed  upon  our  feet,  if  not  our 
aching  hearts,  that  this  trail  to  a  second  captivity 
was  no  improvement  on  the  first,  whatever  might 
be  the  fate  awaiting  us  at  its  termination.  "We  had 
been  under  tutorage  for  one  whole  year  in  burden 
bearing,  and  labor  even  beyond  our  strength,  but  a 
long  walk  or  run,  as  this  proved,  we  had  not  been 
driven  to  during  that  time. 

"  Mary  Ann,  poor  girl,  entered  upon  this  trip  with 
less  strength  or  fortitude  to  encounter  its  hardships 
than  the  one  before.  She  had  not  proceeded  far  be 
fore  I  saw  plainly  that  she  would  not  be  able  to  stand 
it  long.  With  the  many  appearances  of  kindness 
that  our  present  overseers  put  on,  yet  they  seemed 
to  be  utterly  destitute  of  any  heart  or  will  to  enter 
into  the  feelings  of  those  who  had  been  brought  up 
more  delicately  than  themselves,  or  to  understand 
their  inability  to  perform  the  task  dictated  by  their 
rough  and  hardy  habits.  Our  feet  soon  became  sore, 
and  we  were  unable,  on  the  second  day  after  about 
noon,  to  keep  up  with  their  rapid  pace.  A  small 
piece  of  meat  was  put  into  our  hands  on  starting,  and 
this  with  the  roots  we  were  allowed  to  dig,  and  these 
but  few,  was  our  sole  subsistence  for  ten  days. 

"With  much  complaining,  and  some  threatening 
from  our  recent  captors,  we  were  allowed  to  rest  on 


162   CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMOJTO 

the  second  day  a  short  time.  After  this  we  were  not 
compelled  to  go  more  than  thirty-five  miles  any  one 
day,  and  pieces  of  skins  were  furnished  for  our  feet, 
but  not  until  they  had  been  needlessly  bruised  and 
mangled  without  them.  The  nights  were  cool,  and, 
contrary  to  our  expectations,  the  daughter  of  the 
chief  showed  us  kindness  throughout  the  journey 
by  sharing  her  blankets  with  us  at  each  camp. 

"  Of  all  rough,  uncouth,  irregular,  and  unattract 
ive  countries  through  which  human  beings  trail,  the 
one  through  which  that  ten  days'  march  led  us,  must 
remain  unsurpassed. 

"  On  the  eleventh  day,  about  two  hours  before 
sunset,  we  made  a  bold  steep  ascent  (and  of  such 
we  had  been  permitted  to  climb  many)  from  which 
we  had  an  extensive  view  on  either  side. 

"Before  us,  commencing  a  little  from  the  foot  of 
our  declivity,  lay  a  narrow  valley  covered  with  a 
carpet  of  green,  stretching  a  distance,  seemingly,  of 
twenty  miles.  On  either  side  were  the  high,  irreg 
ularly  sloped  mountains,  with  their  foot  hills  robed 
in  the  same  bright  green  as  the  valley,  and  with 
their  bald  humpbacks  and  sharp  peaks,  treeless, 
verdureless,  and  desolate,  as  if  the  tempests  of  ages 
had  poured  their  rage  upon  their  sides  and  summits. 

"  Our  guides  soon  halted.  We  immediately  ob 
served  by  their  movements  and  manifestations  that 
some  object  beyond  the  loveliness  that  nature  had 
strewn  upon  that  valley,  was  enrapturing  their  gaze. 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOTTAVE  INDIANS.        163 

"We  had  stood  gazing  a  few  moments  only,  when  the 
smoke  at  the  distance  of  a  few  miles,  winding  in 
gentle  columns  up  the  ridges,  spoke  to  us  of  the 
abodes  or  tarrying  of  human  beings.  Yery  soon 
there  came  into  the  field  of  our  steady  view  a  large 
number  of  huts,  clothing  the  valley  in  every  direc 
tion.  We  could  plainly  see  a  large  cluster  of  these 
huts  huddled  into  a  nook  in  the  hills  on  our  right 
and  on  the  bank  of  a  river,  whose  glassy  waters 
threw  the  sunlight  in  our  face ;  its  winding,  zigzag 
course  pointed  out  to  us  by  the  row  of  beautiful  cot 
ton  wood  trees  that  thickly  studded  its  vicinity. 

" '  Here,  Olive,'  said  Mary  Ann,  '  is  the  place 
where  they  live.  O  isn't  it  a  beautiful  valley  ?  It 
seems  to  me  I  should  like  to  live  here.' 

"  '  May  be,'  said  I,  '  that  you  will  not  want  to  go 
back  to  the  whites  any  more.' 

"  '  O  yes,  there  is  green  grass  and  fine  meadows 
there,  besides  good  people  to  care  for  us;  these 
savages  are  enough  to  make  any  place  look  ugly, 
after  a  little  time.' 

"  We  were  soon  ushered  into  the  4  Mohave  Valley,' 
and  had  not  proceeded  far  before  we  began  to  pass 
the  low,  rude  huts  of  the  Mohave  settlers.  They 
greeted  us  with  shouts,  and  dance,  and  song  as  we 
passed.  Our  guides  kept  up,  however,  a  steady  un 
heeding  march  for  the  village,  occasionally  joined 
by  fierce,  filthy-looking  Mohaves,  and  their  more 
filthy-looking  children,  who  would  come  up,  look 

11 


164       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AX   GIRLS  AMONG 

rudely  in  our  faces,  fasten  their  deep-set,  small, 
flashing  eyes  upon  us,  and  trip  along,  with  merry 
making,  hallooing,  and  dancing  at  our  side. 

"  We  were  conducted  immediately  to  the  home  of 
the  chief,  and  welcomed  with  the  staring  eyes  of 
collecting  groups,  and  an  occasional  smile  from  the 
members  of  the  chief's  family,  who  gave  the 
warmest  expressions  of  joy  over  the  return  of  their 
daughter  and  sister  so  long  absent.  Seldom  does  our 
civilization  furnish  a  more  hearty  exhibition  of 
affection  for  kindred,  than  welcomed  the  coming  in 
of  this  member  of  the  chief's  family,  though  she  had 
been  absent  but  a  few  days.  The  chief 's  house  was 
on  a  beautiful  but  small  elevation  crowning  the  river 
bank,  from  which  the  eye  could  sweep  a  large 
section  of  the  valley,  and  survey  the  entire  village,  a 
portion  of  which  lined  each  bank  of  the  stream. 

"  As  a  model,  and  one  that  will  give  a  correct  idea 
of  the  form  observed,  especially  in  their  village 
structures,  we  may  speak  of  the  chief's  residence. 
When  we  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  town  we  ob 
served  upon  the  bank  of  the  river  a  row  of  beautiful 
cotton  wood  trees,  just  putting  out  their  new  leaves 
and  foliage,  their  branches  interlocking,  standing  in 
a  row,  about  a  perfect  square  of  about  one  hundred 
feet,  and  arranged  in  taste.  They  were  thrifty,  and 
seemed  fed  from  a  rich  soil,  and  with  other  plots 
covered  with  the  same  growths,  and  abounding 
throughout  the  village,  presented  truly  an  oasis  in 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOIIAVE  INDIANS.         165 

the  general  desert  of  country  upon  which  we  had 
been  trailing  our  painful  walk  for  the  last  ten  days, 
climbing  and  descending,  with  unshapen  rocks,  and 
sharp  gravel,  and  burning  sands  for  our  pavement. 
Immediately  behind  the  row  of  trees  first  spoken  of, 
was  a  row  of  poles  or  logs,  each  about  six  inches  in 
diameter  and  standing  close  to  each  other,  one  end 
firmly  set  in  the  ground  and  reaching  up  about 
twenty  feet,  forming  an  in  closure  of  about  fifty 
feet  square. 

"  We  entered  this  inclosure  through  a  door,  (never 
shut,)  and  found  a  tidy  yard,  grass-plotted.  Inside  of 
this  was  still  another  inclosune  of  about  twenty  feet, 
walled  by  the  same  kind  of  fence,  only  about  one 
third  as  high.  Running  from  front  to  rear,  and 
dividing  this  dwelling-place  of  the  Mohave  magnate 
into  equal  parts,  stood  a  row  of  these  logs  stuck  in 
the  ground,  and  running  up  about  three  feet  above 
the  level  top  of  the  outside  row,  and  forming  a  ridge 
for  the  resting  of  the  roof.  The  roof  was  a  thick  mat 
of  limbs  and  mud.  A  few  blankets,  a  small  smoking 
fire  near  the  door,  with  naked  walls  over  which  the 
finishing  hand  of  the  upholsterer  had  never  passed,  a 
floor  made  when  all  terra  firma  was  created,  wel 
comed  us  to  the  interior. 

"The  daughter  of  the  chief  had  been  kind  to  us,  if 
kindness  could  be  shown  under  their  barbarous 
habits  and  those  rates  of  travel  while  on  our  way. 
She  was  more  intelligent  and  seemed  capable  of 


166      CAPTIVITY   OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIULS  AMONG 

more  true  sympathy  and  affection,  than  any  we  had 
yet  met  in  our  one  year's  exile.  She  was  of  about 
seventeen  years,  sprightly,  jovial,  and  good-natured, 
and  at  times  manifested  a  deep  sympathy  for  us,  and 
a  commiseration  of  our  desolate  condition.  But 
though  she  was  daughter  of  the  chief,  their  habits  of 
barbarousness  could  not  bend  to  courtesy  even 
toward  those  of  rank.  She  had  walked  the  whole 
distance  to  the'  Apaches,  carrying  a  roll  of  blankets, 
while  two  horses  were  rode  by  two  stalwart,  healthy 
Mohaves  by  her  side. 

"On  entering  the  house  Topeka,  who  had  accom 
panied  us,  gave  an  immediate  and  practical  evidence 
that  her  stinted  stomach  had  not  become  utterly 
deaf  to  all  the  demands  of  hunger.  Seeing  a  cake 
roasting  in  the  ashes,  she  seized  it,  and  dividing  it 
into  three  parts,  she  gave  me  the  Benjamin  portion 
and  bade  us  eat,  which  was  done  with  greediness  and 
pleasant  surprise. 

"Night  came  on  and  with  it  the  gathering  of  a 
large  concourse  of  Indians,  their  brown,  stout  wives 
and  daughters,  and  swarms  of  little  ones  whose  faces 
and  bare  limbs  would  have  suggested  anything  else 
sooner  than  the  near  vicinity  of  clear  water,  or  their 
knowledge  of  its  use  for  purifying  purposes. 

"The  Indians  were  mostly  tall,  stout,  with  large 
heads,  broad  faces,  and  of  a  much  more  intelligent 
appearance  than  the  Apaches,  Bark-clad,  where 
clad  at  all,  the  scarcity  of  their  covering  indicating 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   LNDIANS.        167 

either  a  warm  climate  or  a  great  destitution  of  the 
clothing  material,  or  something  else. 

"  Their  conduct  during  that  night  of  wild  excite 
ment,  was  very  different  from  that  by  which  our 
coming  among  the  Apaches  was  celebrated.  That 
was  one  of  selfish  iron-hearted  fiends,  glutting  over  a 
murderous,  barbarous  deed  of  death  and  plunder;  this 
was  that  of  a  company  of  indolent,  superstitious,  and 
lazy  heathen,  adopting  the  only  method  which  their 
darkness  and  ignorance  would  allow  to  signify  their 
joy  over  the  return  of  kindred  and  the  delighted  pur 
chase  of  two  foreign  captives.  They  placed  us  out 
upon  the  green,  and  in  the  light  of  a  large,  brisk  fire, 
and  kept  up  their  dancing,  singing,  jumping,  and 
shouting,  until  near  the  break  of  day. 

"After  they  had  dispersed,  and  that  night  of  tears, 
and  the  bitterest  emotions,  and  most  torturing 
remembrances  of  the  past,  and  reflections  of  our 
present  had  nearly  worn  away,  with  bleeding  feet, 
worn  in  places  almost  to  the  bone,  with  aching  limbs, 
beneath  a  thin  covering,  side  by  side,  little  Mary 
Ann  and  myself  lay  us  down  upon  a  sand  bed  to 
meditate  upon  sleep.  A  few  hours  were  spent  in 
conversation,  conducted  in  a  low  whisper,  with  occa 
sional  moments  of  partial  drowsiness,  haunted  with 
wild,  frantic  dreams." 

Though  five  years  separate  that  time  and  the  pres 
ent,  where  is  the  heart  but  throbs  sensitive  to  the 
dark,  prison-like  condition  of  these  two  girls.  Look 


168       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMONG 

at  their  situation,  the  scenes  around  ;  having  reached 
a  strange  tribe  by  a  toilsome,  painful  ten  days'  jour 
ney,  the  sufferings  of  which  were  almost  insupporta 
ble  and  life  consuming,  having  been  for  nearly  the 
whole  night  of  their  introduction  to  a  new  captivity 
made  the  subjects  of  shouting  and  confusion,  heath 
enish,  indelicate,  and  indecent,  and  toward  morning 
hiding  themselves  under  a  scanty  covering,  sur 
rounded  by  unknown  savages ;  whispering  into  each 
other's  ears  the  hopes,  fears,  and  impressions  of  their 
new  condition.  Coveting  sleep,  but  every  touch  of 
its  soft  hand  upon  their  moistened  eyelids  turned  to 
torture  and  hideousness  by  scary  visions  and  dreams; 
harassed  in  mind  over  the  uncertainty  and  doubt 
haunting  their  imaginations,  as  to  the  probable  pur 
poses  of  their  new  possessors  in  all  their  painstaking 
to  secure  a  transfer  of  the  captives  to  them.  It  is 
true  that  less  of  barbarity  had  marked  the  few  days 
of  their  dependence  upon  their  new  owners,  than 
their  Apache  hardships ;  but  they  had  sadly  learned 
already  that  under  friendly  guises  their  possible 
treachery  might  be  wrapping  and  nursing  some  foul 
and  murderous  design. 

Plunged  now  into  the  depths  of  a  wild  country, 
where  the  traces  of  a  white  foot  would  be  sought  in 
vain  for  hundreds  of  miles,  and  at  such  a  distance 
from  the  nearest  route  of  the  hurrying  emigrant,  as 
to  preclude  almost  the  traveling  of  hope  to  their  exile 
and  gloom;  it  is  no  marvel  that  these  few  hours 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.         169 

allotted  to  sleep  at  the  latter  part  of  the  night,  were 
disturbed  by  such  questions  as  these :  Why  have 
they  purchased  us  ?  What  labor  or  service  do  they 
intend  subjecting  us  to?  Have  they  connived  with 
our  former  masters  to  remove  us  still  further  from 
the  habitations  of  our  countrymen,  and  sought  to 
plunge  us  so  deep  in  these  mountain  defiles,  that  they 
may  solace  themselves  with  that  insatiate  revenge 
upon  our  race  which  will  encounter  any  hardship 
rather  than  allow  us  the  happiness  of  a  return  to  our 
native  land  ?  No  marvel  that  they  could  not  drive 
away  such  thoughts,  though  a  lacerated  body  was 
praying  for  balmy  sleep,  "  nature's  sweet  restorer." 

Mary  Ann,  the  youngest,  a  little  girl  of  eight 
years,  had  been  declining  in  health  and  strength  for 
some  time.  She  had  almost  starved  on  that  long 
road,  kept  up  principally  by  a  small  piece  of  meat. 
For  over  three  hundred  miles  had  she  come,  climbing 
rocks,  traversing  sun-burned  gravel  and  sand,  mark 
ing  the  way  by  bleeding  feet,  sighs,  and  piteous 
moanings ;  well-nigh  breaking  the  heart  of  her  older 
sister,  whose  deepest  anguish  was  the  witnessing  of 
these  sufferings  that  she  could  not  relieve.  She  was 
not  inclined  to  complain  ;  nay,  she  was  given  to  a 
patient  reserve  that  would  bear  her  grief  alone, 
sooner  than  trouble  her  loved  sister  with  it.  She 
had  from  infancy  been  the  favorite  child  of  the  fam 
ily  ;  the  only  one  of  a  frail  constitution,  quickest  to 
learn,  and  best  to  remember ;  and  often,  wrhen  at 


170    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

home,  and  the  subject  of  disease  and  pain,  exhibiting 
a  meekness,  judgment,  and  fortitude  beyond  her 
years.  She  was  tenderly  loved  by  the  whole  family ; 
nursed  by  her  fond  mother  with  a  delicacy  and 
concern  bestowed  on  none  of  the  rest ;  and  now 
bound  to  the  heart  of  her  only  sister  by  a  tie  strength 
ened  by  mutual  sufferings,  and  that  made  her  every 
woe  and  sigh  a  dagger  to  the  heart  of  Olive.  !N"o 
marvel  that  the  latter  should  say  :  "  Poor  girl,  I  love 
her  tenderly,  ardently  ;  and  now  to  see  her  driven 
forth  whole  days,  with  declining  health,  at  a  pace 
kept  up  by  these  able-bodied  Indians ;  to  see  her 
climb  rugged  cliffs,  at  times  upon  her  hands  and 
knees,  struggling  up  where  others  could  walk,  the 
sweat  coursing  down  freely  from  her  pearly-white 
forehead;  to  hear  her  heave  those  half-suppressed 
sighs ;  to  see  the  steps  of  those  little  bleeding  feet 
totter  and  falter ;  to  see  the  big  tears  standing  out 
of  her  eyes,  glistening  as  if  in  the  borrowed  light  of 
a  purer  home  ;  to  see  her  turn  at  times  and  bury  her 
head  in  some  of  the  tattered  furs  wrapped  about  a 
part  of  her  person,  and  weeping  alone,  and  then  come 
to  me,  saying :  c  How  far,  dear  Olive,  must  we  yet 
go  ?'  To  hear  her  ask,  and  ask  in  vain,  for  bread,  for 
meat,  for  water,  for  something  to  eat,  when  nothing 
but  their  laziness  denied  her  request;  these  were 
sights  and  scenes  I  pray  God  to  deliver  me  from  in 
future !  O  that  I  could  blot  out  the  impression  they 
have  indelibly  written  upon  my  mind  ! 


THE   APACHE    AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.        171 

" '  But  we  are  now  here,  and  must  make  the  best 
of  it,'  was  the  interruption  made  the  next  morning  to 
memories  and  thoughts  like  the  above.  We  were 
narrowly  watched,  and  with  an  eye  and  jealousy  that 
seemed  to  indicate  some  design  beyond  and  unlike 
the  one  that  was  avowed  to  move  them  to  purchase 
us,  and  to  shut  out  all  knowledge  of  the  way  back  to 
our  race.  We  found  the  location  and  scenery  of  our 
new  home  much  pleasanter  than  the  one  last  occu 
pied.  The  valley  extended  about  thirty  or  forty 
miles,  northeast  by  southwest,  and  varying  from  two 
to  five  miles  in  width.  Through  its  whole  length 
flowed  the  beautiful  Colorado,  in  places  a  rapid,  leap 
ing  stream,  in  others  making  its  way  quietly,  noise 
lessly  over  a  deeper  bed.  It  varied,  like  all  streams 
whose  sources  are  in  immediate  mountains,  in  depth, 
at  different  seasons  of  the  year.  During  the  melting 
of  the  snows  that  clothed  the  mountain-tops  to  the 
north,  when  we  came  among  the  Mohaves,  it  came 
roaring  and  thundering  along  its  rock-bound  banks, 
threatening  the  whole  valley,  and  doing  some  dam- 


"  We  found  the  Mohaves  accustomed  to  the  tillage 
of  the  soil  to  a  limited  extent,  and  in  a  peculiar  wa}r. 
And  it  was  a  season  of  great  rejoicing  when  the  Col 
orado  overflowed,  as  it  was  only  after  overflows  that 
they  could  rely  upon  their  soil  for  a  crop.  In  the 
autumn  they  planted  the  wheat  carefully  in  hills  with 
their  fingers,  and  in  the  spring  they  planted  corn, 


1Y2       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

melons,  and  a  few  garden  vegetables.  They  had, 
however,  but  a  few  notions,  and  these  were  crude, 
about  agriculture.  They  were  utterly  without  skill 
or  art  in  any  useful  calling.  When  we  first  arrived 
among  them  the  wheat  sown  the  previous  fall  had 
come  up,  and  looked  green  and  thrifty,  though  it  did 
not  appear,  nor  was  it,  sufficient  to  maintain  one-fifth 
of  their  population.  They  spent  more  time  in  raising 
twenty  spears  of  wheat  from  one  hill,  than  was 
necessary  to  have  cultivated  one  acre,  with  the  im 
provements  they  might  and  should  have  learned  in 
the  method  of  doing  it.  It  was  to  us,  however,  an 
enlivening  sight  to  see  even  these  scattered  parcels 
of  grain  growing,  clothing  sections  of  their  valley. 
It  was  a  remembrancer,  and  reminded  us  of  home, 
(now  no  more  ours,)  and  placed  us  in  a  nearness  to 
the  customs  of  a  civilized  mode  of  life  that  we  had 
not  realized  before. 

"  For  a  time  after  coming  among  them  but  little 
was  said  to  us ;  none  seemed  desirous  to  enter  into 
any  intercourse,  or  inquire  even,  if  it  had  been  pos 
sible  for  us  to  understand  them,  as  to  our  welfare, 
past  or  present.  Topeka  gave  us  to  know  that  we 
were  to  remain  in  their  house.  Indeed  we  were 
merely  regarded  as  strange  intruders,  with  whom 
they  had  no  sympathy,  and  their  bearing  for  a  while 
toward  us  seemed  to  say :  t  You  may  live  here  if  you 
can  eke  out  an  existence,  by  bowing  yourselves  un- 
murmuringly  to  our  barbarism  and  privations.' 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.        173 

"  In  a  few  days  they  began  to  direct  us  to  work  in 
various  ways,  such  as  bringing  wood  and  water,  and 
to  perform  various  errands  of  convenience  to  them. 
Why  they  took  the  course  they  did  I  have  never  been 
able  to  imagine ;  but  it  was  only  by  degrees  that 
their  exactions  were  enforced.  We  soon  learned, 
however,  that  our  condition  was  that  of  unmitigated 
slavery,  not  to  the  adults  merely,  but  to  the  children. 
In  this  respect  it  was  very  much  as  among  the 
Apaches.  Their  whimpering,  idiotic  children,  of  not 
half  a  dozen  years,  very  soon  learned  to  drive  us 
about  with  all  the  authority  of  an  Eastern  lord.  And 
these  filthy  creatures  would  go  in  quest  of  occasions, 
seemingly  to  gratify  their  love  of  command ;  and  any 
want  of  hurried  attention  to  them  was  visited  upon  us 
by  punishment,  either  by  whipping  or  the  withholding 
of  our  food.  Besides,  the  adults  of  the  tribe  enjoyed 
the  sport  of  seeing  us  thus  forced  into  submission  to 
their  children. 

"  The  Colorado  had  overflown  during  the  winter, 
and  there  had^been  considerable  rain.  The  Mohaves 
were  in  high  hopes  for  a  bountiful  crop  during  this 
season.  What  was  to  them  a  rich  harvest  would  be 
considered  in  Yankee  land,  or  in  the  Western  states, 
a  poor  compensation  for  so  much  time  and  plodding 
labor.  For  two  years  before  they  had  raised  but 
little.  Had  the  industry  and  skill  of  the  least  in 
formed  of  our  agriculturists  been  applied  to  this  Mo- 
have  valley,  it  might  have  been  made  as  productive 


174       CAPTIVITY   OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

and  fruitful -a  spot  as  any  I  ever  saw.  But  they  were 
indolent  and  lazy,  so  that  it  would  seem  impossible 
for  ingenuity  to  invent  modes  by  which  they  might 
work  to  a  greater  disadvantage,  or  waste  the  little  of 
strength  they  did  use.  While  their  lot  had  cast  them 
into  the  midst  of  superior  natural  advantages,  which 
ought  to  have  awakened  their  pride  and  ambition  to  do 
something  for  themselves,  yet  they  were  indisposed 
to  every  fatiguing  toil,  unless  in  the  chase  or  war." 

Nothing  during  the  summer  of  1852  occurred  to 
throw  any  light  upon  that  one  question,  to  these  cap 
tive  girls  the  all-absorbing  one,  one  which,  like  an 
everywhere  present  spirit,  haunted  them  day  and 
night,  as  to  the  probabilities  of  their  ever  escaping  from 
Indian  captivity.  It  was  not  long  before  their  lan 
guage,  of  few  words,  was  so  far  understood  as  to  make 
it  easy  to  understand  the  Mohaves  in  conversation. 
Every  day  brought  to  their  ears  expressions,  casually 
dropped,  showing  their  spite  and  hate  to  the  white 
race.  They  would  question  their  captives  closely, 
seeking  to  draw  from  them  any  discontent  they  might 
feel  in  their  present  condition.  They  taunted  them, 
in  a  less  ferocious  manner  than  the  Apaches,  but 
with  every  evidence  of  an  equal  hate,  about  the 
good-for-nothing  whites. 

"  At  times,  when  some  of  their  friends  were  visitiiig 
in  the  neighborhood  of  our  valley,  they  would  call  for 
the  captives  that  they  might  see  them.  One  day, 
while  one  of  the  sub-chiefs  and  his  family  were  visit- 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIANS.         175 

ing  at  Espaniola's  house,  Mary  and  I  were  out  a  little 
from  the  house  singing,  and  were  overheard.  This 
aroused  their  curiosity,  and  we  were  called,  and  many 
questions  were  put  to  us  as  to  what  we  were  singing, 
where  we  learned  to  sing,  and  if  the  whites  were 
good  singers.  Mary  and  I,  at  their  request,  sang 
them  some  of  our  Sabbath-school  hymns,  and  some 
of  the  short  children's  songs  we  had  learned.  After 
this  we  were  teased  very  much  to  sing  to  them. 
Several  times  a  small  string  of  beads  was  made  up 
among  them  and  presented  to  us  for  singing  to  them 
for  two  or  three  hours ;  also  pieces  of  red  flannel,  (an 
article  that  to  them  was  the  most  valuable  of  any 
they  could  possess,)  of  which  after  some  time  we 
had  several  pieces.  These  we  managed  to  attach 
together  with  ravelings,  and  wore  them  upon  our 
persons.  The  beads  we  wore  about  our  necks,  squaw 
fashion." 

Many  of  them  were  anxious  to  learn  the  language 
of  the  whites;  among  these  one  Ccearekae,  a  young 
man  of  some  self-conceit  and  pride.  He  asked  the 
elder  of  the  girls,  "  How  do  you  like  living  with  the 
Mohaves  ?"  To  which  she  replied,  "  I  do  not  like  it 
so  well  as  among  the  whites,  for  we  do  not  have 
enough  to  eat." 

Cceareke.  "  We  have  enough  to  satisfy  us ;  you 
Americanos  (a  term  also  by  them  learned  of  the 
Mexicans)  work  hard,  and  it  does  you  no  good ;  we 
enjoy  ourselves." 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

Olive.  "Well,  we  enjoy  ourselves  well  at  Lome, 
and  all  our  white  people  seem  happier  than  any 
Indian  I  have  seen  since." 

Ccearekae.  Our  great  fathers  worked  just  as  you 
whites  do,  and  they  had  many  nice  things  to  wear ; 
but  the  flood  came  and  swept  the  old  folks  away,  and 
a  white  son  of  the  family  stole  all  the  arts,  with  the 
clothing,  etc.,  and  the  Mohaves  have  had  none  since." 

Olive.  "  But  if  our  people  had  this  beautiful  val 
ley  they  would  till  it,  and  raise  much  grain.  You 
Mohaves  don't  like  to  work,  and  you  say  you  do  not 
have  enough  to  eat ;  then  it  is  because  you  are  lazy." 

"  At  this  his  wrath  was  aroused,  and  with  angry 
words  and  countenance  he  left.  I  frequently  told  them 
how  grain,  and  cattle,  and  fowls  would  abound,  if  such 
good  land  was  under  the  control  of  the  whites.  This 
would  sometimes  kindle  their  wrath,  and  flirts,  and 
taunts,  and  again  at  other  times  their  curiosity.  One 
day  several  of  them  were  gathered,  and  questioning 
about  our  former  homes,  and  the  white  nation,  and 
the  way  by  which  a  living  was  made,  etc.  I  told 
them  of  plowing  the  soil.  They  then  wanted  to 
see  the  figure  of  a  plow.  I  accordingly,  with 
sticks  and  marks  in  the  sand,  made  as  good  a  plow 
as  a  girl  of  fifteen  would  be  expected,  perhaps,  to 
make  out  of  such  material;  drew  the  oxen  and 
hitched  them  to  my  plow,  and  told  them  how  it 
would  break  the  soil.  This  feasted  their  curiosity 
a  while,  but  ended  in  a  volley  of  scorn  and  mockery 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAYE    INDIANS. 

to  me  and  the  race  of  whites,  and  a  general  outburst 
of  indignant  taunts  about  their  meanness. 

"  They  were  very  anxious  to  know  how  breaking 
up  of  the  soil  would  make  grain  grow ;  of  what  use  it 
was ;  whether  women  labored  in  raising  grain.  We 
told  them  of  milking  the  cows,  and  how  our  white 
people  mowed  the  grass  and  fattened  cattle,  and 
many  other  things,  to  which  they  gave  the  ear  of  a 
curiosity  plainly  beyond  what  they  wanted  us  to 
understand  they  cared  about  it. 

"  I  told  them  of  the  abundance  that  rewards  white 
labor,  while  they  had  so  little.  They  said:  'Your 
ancestors  were  dishonest,  and  their  children  are 
weak,  and  that  by  and  by  the  pride  and  good  living 
of  the  present  whites  would  ruin  them.  You  whites,' 
continued  they,  'have  forsaken  nature  and  want  to 
possess  the  earth,  but  you  will  not  be  able.'  In  thus 
conversing  with  them  I  learned  of  a  superstition  they 
hold  as  to  the  origin  of  the  distinction  existing  among 
the  red  and  white  races. 

"  It  was  as  follows :  They  said,  pointing  to  a  high 
mountain  at  the  northern  end  of  the  valley,  (the 
highest  in  the  vicinity,)  there  was  once  a  flood  in 
ancient  time  that  covered  all  the  world  but  that  mount 
ain,  and  all  the  present  races  then  were  merged  in  one 
family,  and  this  family  was  saved  from  the  general 
deluge  by  getting  upon  that  mountain.  They  said 
that  this  antediluvian  family  was  very  large,  and  had 
great  riches,  clothing,  cattle,  horses,  and  much  to  eat. 


178       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

They  said  that  after  the  water  subsided  one  of  the 
family  took  all  the  cattle  and  our  kind  of  clothing, 
and  went  north,  was  turned  from  red  to  white,  and  so 
there  settled.  That  another  part  of  this  family  took 
deer  skins  and  bark,  and  from  these  the  Indians 
came.  They  held  that  this  ancient  family  wrere  all 
of  red  complexion  until  the  progenitor  of  the  whites 
stole,  then  he  was  turned  white.  They  said  the  Hic- 
cos  (dishonest  whites)  would  lose  their  cattle  yet ;  that 
this  thieving  would  turn  upon  themselves.  They 
said  remains  of  the  old  '  big  house,'  in  which  this  an 
cient  family  lived,  were  up  there  yet ;  also  pieces  of 
bottles,  broken  dishes,  and  remnants  of  all  the  various 
kinds  of  articles  used  by  them. 

"  We  were  told  by  them  that  this  venerated  spot 
had,  ever  since  the  flood,  been  the  abode  of  spirits ; 
(Hippoweka,  the  name  for  spirit ;)  and  that  these 
spirits  were  perfectly  acquainted  with  all  the  doings, 
and  even  the  secret  motives  and  character,  of  each 
individual  of  the  tribe.  And  also  that  it  was  a 
place  consecrated  to  these  spirits,  and  if  the  feet  of 
mortals  should  presume  to  tread  this  enchanted 
spirit-land,  a  fire  would  burst  from  the  mountain 
and  instantly  consume  them,  except  it  be  those 
who  are  selected  and  appointed  by  these  spirits  to 
communicate  some  special  message  to  the  tribe. 
This  favored  class  were  generally  the  physicians  of 
the  tribe.  And  when  a  war  project  was  designed  by 
these  master  spirits,  they  signified  the  bloody  in  ten- 


THE    APACHE    AND    M01IAVE    INDIANS.        179 

tioii  by  causing  the  mountains  to  shoot  forth  lurid 
tongues  of  fire,  visible  only  to  the  revelators.  All 
their  war  plans  and  the  time  of  their  execution, 
their  superstition  taught  them,  were  communicated 
by  the  flame-lit  pinnacle  to  those  depositories  of  the 
will  of  the  spirits,  and  by  them,  under  professed 
superhuman  dictation,  the  time,  place,  object,  and 
method  of  the  war  were  communicated  to  the  chief. 
Yet  the  power  of  the  chief  was  absolute,  and  when 
his  practical  wisdom  suggested,  these  wizards  always 
found  a  license  by  a  second  consultation  to  modify 
the  conflict,  or  change  the  time  and  method  of  its 
operation. 

"  It  was  their  belief  that  in  the  region  of  this 
mountain  there  was  held  in  perpetual  chains  the 
spirit  of  every  '  Hicco '  that  they  had  been  successful 
in  slaying;  and  that  the  souls  of  all  such  were  there 
eternally  doomed  to  torment  of  the  fiercest  quench 
less  fires,  and  the  Mohave  by  whose  hand  the  slaugh 
ter  was  perpetrated,  would  be  exalted  to  eternal 
honors  and  superior  privileges  therefor. 

"  It  was  with  strange  emotions,  after  listening  to 
this  superstitious  tale,  that  our  eyes  rested  upon  that 
old  bald  peak,  and  saw  within  the  embrace  of  its 
internal  fires,  the  spirits  of  many  of  our  own  race, 
and  thought  of  their  being  bound  by  this  Mohave 
legend  to  miseries  so  extreme,  and  woes  so  unmiti 
gated,  and  a  revenge  so  insatiate. 

"But  according  to  their  belief  we  could  only 
12 


180    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN    GIELS  AMONG- 

expect  a  like  fate  by  attempting  their  rescue,  and 
we  did  not  care  enough  for  the  professed  validness 
of  their  faith  to  risk  companionship  with  them,  even 
for  the  purpose  of  attempting  to  unbind  the  chains 
of  their  tormenting  bondage ;  and  we  turned  away, 
most  heartily  pitying  them  for  their  subjection  to  so 
gross  a  superstition,  without  any  particular  concern 
for  those  who  had  been  appointed  by  its  authority  to 
its  vengeance.  We  felt  that  if  the  Hiccos  could 
manage  to  escape  all  other  hells,  they  could  manage 
this  one  without  our  sympathy  or  help. 

"There  was  little  game  in  the  Mohave  Yalley,  and 
of  necessity  little  meat  was  used  by  this  tribe.  At 
some  seasons  of  the  year,  winter  and  spring,  they 
procure  fish  from  a  small  lake  in  the  vicinity.  This 
was  a  beautiful  little  body  of  water  at  freshet 
seasons,  but  in  the  dry  seasons  became  a  loathsome 
mu dhole.  In  their  producing  season,  the  Mohavcs 
scarcely  raised  a  four  months'  supply,  yet  they  might 
have  raised  for  the  whole  year  as  well.  Often  I 
thought,  as  I  saw  garden  vegetables  and  grain 
plucked  ere  they  were  grown,  to  be  devoured  by 
these  lazy  '  live  to-day  '  savages,  I  should  delight  to 
see  the  hand  of  the  skillful  agriculturist  upon  that 
beautiful  valley,  with  the  Mohaves  standing  by  to 
witness  its  capabilities  for  producing. 

"  We  spent  most  of  this  summer  in  hard  work. 
We  were,  for  a  long  time,  roused  at  the  break  of  day, 
baskets  were  swung  upon  our  shoulders,  and  we 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIANS.        181 

were   obliged  to  go  from   six  to  eight  miles  for  the 

'  Musquite,'  a  seed  or  berry  growing  upon   a  bush 

about  the  size  of  our  Manzanita.     In  the  first  part  of 

the   season,   this    tree   bloomed   a  beautiful   flower, 

and  after  a   few  weeks  a  large    seed-bud   could  be 

gathered  from  it,  and  this  furnished  what  is  truly  to 

be   called   their  staple   article   of  subsistence.     We 

spent  from  twilight  to  twilight  again,  for  a  long  time, 

in  gathering  this.     And  often  we  found  it  impossible, 

from  its  scarcity   that  year,  to  fill  our  basket  in  a 

day,  as  we  were  required ;  and  for  failing  to  do  this 

we  seldom  escaped  a  chastisement.     This  seed,  when 

gathered,  was  hung  up  in  their  huts  to  be  thoroughly 

dried,   and  to   be  used  when   their  vegetables    and 

grain  should  be  exhausted.     I  could  endure  myself, 

the  task  daily  assigned  me,  but  to  see  the  demands 

and  exactions  made  upon  little  Mary  Ann,  day  after 

day,  by  these  unfeeling  wretches,  as  many  of  them 

were,   when    her   constitution    was    already   broken 

down,  and  she  daily  suffering  the  most  excruciating 

pains  from  the  effects  of  barbarity  she  had  already 

received  ;  this  was  a  more  severe  trial  than  all  I  had 

to  perform  of  physical  labor.     And  I   often  felt  as 

though  it  would  be  a  sad  relief  to  see  her  sink  into 

the  grave,  beyond  the  touch  and  oppression  of  the 

ills  and  cruel  treatment  she  was  subjected  to.     But 

there  were  times  when  she  would  enliven  after  rest, 

which  from  her  utter  inability  they  were  obliged  to 

grant. 


182      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS   AMONG 

"We  were  accused  by  our  captors  several  times 
during  this  season,  of  designing  and  having  plotted 
already  to  make  our  escape.  Some  of  them  would 
frequently  question  and  annoy  us  much  to  discover, 
if  possible,  our  feelings  and  our  intentions  in  refer 
ence  to  our  captivity.  Though  we  persisted  in  deny 
ing  any  purpose  to  attempt  our  escape,  many  of 
them  seemed  to  disbelieve  us,  and  would  warn  us 
against  any  such  undertaking,  by  assuring  us  they 
would  follow  us,  if  it  were  necessary,  quite  to  the 
white  settlements,  and  would  torment  us  in  the  most 
painful  manner,  if  we  were  ever  to  be  recaptured. 

"  One  day,  while  we  were  sitting  in  the  hut  of  the 
chief,  having  just  returned  from  a  root-digging  excur 
sion,  there  came  two  of  their  physicians  attended  by 
the  chief  and  several  others,  to  the  door  of  the  hut. 
The  chief's  wife  then  bade  us  go  out  upon  the  yard, 
and  told  us  that  the  physicians  were  going  to  put 
marks  on  our  faces.  It  was  with  much  difficulty  that 
we  could  understand,  however,  at  first,  what  was 
their  design.  We  soon,  however,  by  the  motions 
accompanying  the  commands  of  the  wife  of  the 
chief,  came  to  understand  that  they  were  going  to 
tatoo  our  faces. 

"  We  had  seen  them  do  this  to  some  of  their  female 
children,  and  we  had  often  conversed  with  each  other 
about  expressing  the  hope  that  we  should  be  spared 
from  receiving  their  marks  upon  us.  I  ventured  to 
plead  with  them  for  a  few  moments  that  they  would 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.      183 

not  put  those  ugly  marks  upon  our  faces.  But  it  was 
in  vain.  To  all  our  expostulations  they  only  replied 
in  substance  that  they  knew  why  we  objected  to  it ; 
that  we  expected  to  return  to  the  whites,  and  we 
would  be  ashamed  of  it  then ;  but  that  it  was  their 
resolution  we  should  never  return,  and  that  as  we  be 
longed  to  them  we  should  wear  their  *  Ki-e-chook.' 
They  said  further,  that  if  we  should  get  away,  and 
they  should  find  us  among  other  tribes,  or  if  some 
other  tribes  should  steal  us,  they  would  by  this  means 
know  us. 

"They  then  pricked  the  skin  in  small  regular  rows 
on  our  chins  with  a  very  sharp  stick,  until  they  bled 
freely.  They  then  dipped  these  same  sticks  in  the 
juice  of  a  certain  weed  that  grew  on  the  banks  of  the 
river,  and  then  in  the  powder  of  a  blue  stone  that 
was  to  be  found  in  low  water,  in  some  places  along 
the  bed  of  the  stream,  (the  stone  they  first  burned 
until  it  would  pulverize  easy,  and  in  burning  it 
turned  nearly  black,)  and  pricked  this  fine  powder 
into  these  lacerated  parts  of  the  face. 

"The  process  was  somewhat  painful,  though  it 
pained  us  more  for  two  or  three  days  after  than  at 
the  time  of  its  being  done.  They  told  us  this  could 
never  be  taken  from  the  face,  and  that  they  had  given 
us  a  different  mark  from  the  one  worn  by  their  own 
females,  as  we  saw,  but  the  same  with  which  they 
marked  all  their  own  captives,  and  that  they  could 
claim  us  in  whatever  tribe  they  might  find  us. 


184     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

"The  autumn  was  by  far  tlie  easiest  portion  of  the 
year  for  us.  To  multiply  words  would  not  give  any 
clearer  idea  to  the  reader  of  our  condition.  It  was 
one  continual  routine  of  drudgery.  Toward  spring 
their  grains  were  exhausted.  There  was  but  little 
rain,  not  enough  to  raise  the  Colorado  near  the  top 
of  its  banks.  The  Mohaves  became  very  uneasy 
about  their  wheat  in  the  ground.  It  came  up  much 
later  than  usual,  and  looked  sickly  and  grew  tardily 
after  it  was  out  of  the  ground.  It  gave  a  poor, 
wretched  promise  at  the  best  for  the  next  year.  Ere 
it  was  fairly  up  there  were  not  provisions  or  articles 
of  any  kind  to  eat  in  the  village  any  one  night  to  keep 
its  population  two  days.  We  found  that  the  people 
numbered  really  over  fifteen  hundred.  We  were  now 
driven  forth  every  morning  by  the  first  break  of  day, 
cold  and  sometimes  damp,  with  rough,  bleak  winds, 
to  glean  the  old,  dry  musquite  seed  that  chanced  to 
have  escaped  the  fatiguing  search  of  the  summer  and 
autumn  months.  From  this  on  to  the  time  of  gather 
ing  the  scanty  harvest  of  that  year,  we  were  barely 
able  to  keep  soul  and  body  together.  And  the  return 
for  all  our  vigorous  labor  was  a  little  dry  seed  in 
small  quantities.  And  all  this  was  put  forth  under 
the  most  sickening  apprehensions  of  a  worse  priva 
tion  awaiting  us  the  next  year.  This  harvest  was 
next  to  nothing.  No  rain  had  fallen  during  the 
spring  to  do  much  good. 

"Above  what  was  necessary  for  seeding  again, 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOIIAVE  INDIANS.         185 

there  was  not  one  month's  supply  when  harvest  was 
over.  We  had  gathered  less  during  the  summer  of 
'musquite,'  and  nothing  but  starvation  could  be  ex 
pected.  This  seemed  to  throw  the  sadness  of  despair 
upon  our  condition,  and  to  blot  all  our  faint  but  fond 
hopes  of  reaching  our  native  land.  We  knew,  or 
thought  we  knew,  that  in  case  of  an  extremity  our 
portion  must  be  meted  out  after  these  voracious,  un 
feeling  idlers  had  supplied  themselves.  We  had 
already  seen  that  a  calamity  or  adversity  had  the 
effect  to  make  these  savages  more  savage  and  im 
placable.  I  felt  more  keenly  for  Mary  Ann  than 
myself.  She  often  said  (for  we  were  already  denied 
the  larger  half  necessary  to  satisfy  our  appetites)  that 
she  '  could  not  live  long  without  something  more  to 
eat.'  She  would  speak  of  the  plenty  that  she  had  at 
home,  and  that  might  now  be  there,  and  sometimes 
would  rather  chide  me  for  making  no  attempts  to 
escape.  *  O,  if  I  could  only  get  one  dish  of  bread  and 
milk,'  she  would  frequently  say,  ;  I  could  enjoy  it  so 
well !'  They  ground  their  seed  between  stones,  and 
with  water  made  a  mush,  and  we  spent  many  mourn 
ful  hours  of  conversation  over  our  gloomy  state  as  we 
saw  the  supply  of  this  tasteless,  nauseating  'musquite 
mush'  failing,  and  that  the  season  of  our  almost  sole 
dependence  upon  it  was  yet  but  begun. 

"It  was  not  unfrequent  that  a  death  occurred 
among  them  by  the  neglect  and  laziness  so  charac 
teristic  of  the  Indian.  One  day  I  was  out  gathering 


186     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

chottatoe,  when  I  was  suddenly  surprised  and  fright 
ened  by  running  upon  one  of  the  victims  of  this  stupid, 
barbarous  inhumanity.  He  was  a  tall,  bony  Indian 
of  about  thirty  years.  His  eye  was  rather  sunken, 
his  visage  marred,  as  if  he  had  passed  through  ex 
treme  hardships.  He  was  lying  upon  the  ground, 
moaning  and  rolling  from  side  to  side  in  agony  the 
most  acute  and  intense.  I  looked  upon  him,  and  my 
heart  was  moved  with  pity.  Little  Mary  said,  'I 
will  go  up  and  find  out  what  ails  him.'  On  inquiry 
we  soon  found  that  he  had  been  for  some  time  ill, 
but  not  so  as  to  become  utterly  helpless.  And  not 
until  one  of  their  number  is  entirely  disabled,  do  they 
seem  to  manifest  any  feeling  or  concern  for  him. 
The  physician  was  called,  and  soon  decided  that  he 
was  not  in  the  least  diseased.  He  told  Mary  that 
nothing  ailed  him  save  the  want  of  food ;  said  that 
he  had  been  unable  for  some  time  to  procure  his 
food  ;  that  his  friends  devoured  any  that  was  brought 
into  camp  without  dividing  it  with  him ;  that  he  had 
been  gradually  running  down,  and  now  he  wanted  to 
die.  O  there  was  such  dejection,  such  a  forlorn,  de 
spairing  look  written  upon  his  countenance  as  made 
an  impression  upon  my  mind  which  is  yet  vivid  and 
mournful. 

"He  soon  died,  and  then  his  father  and  all  his 
relatives  commenced  a  hideous,  barbarous  howling 
and  jumping,  indicative  of  the  most  poignant  grief. 
"Whether  their  sorrowing  was  a  matter  of  conscience 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       187 

or  bereavement,  none  could  tell,  but  it  would  im 
prove  my  opinion  of  them  to  believe  it  originated 
with  the  former. 

"  Such  scenes  were  not  far  between,  and  yet  these 
results  of  their  laziness  and  want  of  enterprise  and 
humanity,  when  thickening  upon  them,  had  no  effect 
to  beget  a  different  policy  or  elevate  them  to  that  life 
of  happiness,  thrift,  and  love  which  would  have  pro 
longed  their  years,  and  removed  the  dismal,  gloomy 
aspect  of  every-day  life  among  them. 

"  We  were  now  put  upon  a  stinted  allowance,  and 
the  restrictions  upon  us  were  next  to  the  taking  the 
life  of  Mary  Ann.  During  the  second  autumn,  and 
at  the  time  spoken  of  above,  the  chief's  wife  gave  us 
some  seed-grain,  corn  and  wheat,  showed  us  about 
thirty  feet  square  of  ground  marked  off  upon  which 
we  might  plant  it  and  raise  something  for  ourselves. 
"We  planted  our  wheat,  and  carefully  concealed  the 
handful  of  corn  and  melon-seeds  to  plant  in  the 
spring.  This  we  enjoyed  very  much.  It  brought 
to  our  minds  the  extended  grain-fields  that  waved 
about  our  cottage  in  Illinois,  of  the  beautiful  spring 
when  winter's  ice  and  chill  had  departed  before  the 
breath  of  a  warmer  season,  of  the  May-mornings, 
when  we  had  gone  forth  to  the  plow-fields  and  fol 
lowed  barefooted  in  the  new-turned  furrow,  and  of 
the  many  long  days  of  grain-growing  and  ripening  in 
which  we  had  watched  the  daily  change  in  the  fields 
of  wheat  and  oats. 


188     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG      . 

"  These  hours  of  plying  our  fingers  (not  sewing)  in 
the  ground  flew  quickly  by,  but  not  without  their 
tears  and  forebodings  that  ere  we  could  gather  the 
results,  famine  might  lay  our  bodies  in  the  dust. 
Indeed  we  could  see  no  means  by  which  we  could 
possibly  maintain  ourselves  to  harvest  again.  Win 
ter,  a  season  of  sterility  and  frozen  nights,  was  fast 
approaching,  and  to  add  to  my  desolateness,  I  plainly 
saw  that  grief,  or  want  of  food,  or  both,  were  slowly, 
and  inch  by  inch,  enfeebling  and  wasting  away 
Mary  Ann. 

"The  Indians  said  that  about  sixty  miles  away 
there  was  a  '  Taneta'  (tree)  that  bore  a  berry  called 
4  Oth-to-toa,'  upon  which  they  had  subsisted  for  some 
time  several  years  before,  but  it  could  be  reached 
only  by  a  mountainous  and  wretched  way  of  sixty 
miles.  Soon  a  large  party  made  preparations  and 
set  out  in  quest  of  this  '  life-preserver.'  Many  of 
those  accustomed  to  bear  burdens  were  not  able 
to  go.  Mary  Ann  started,  but  soon  gave  out  and 
returned.  A  few  Indians  accompanied  us,  but  it 
was  a  disgrace  for  them  to  bear  burdens ;  this  was 
befitting  only  to  squaws  and  captives.  I  was  com 
manded  to  pick  up  my  basket  and  go  with  them, 
and  it  was  only  with  much  pleading  I  could  get 
them  to  spare  my  sister  the  undertaking  when  she 
gave  out.  I  had  borne  that  '  Chiechuck'  empty  and 
full  over  many  hundred  miles,  but  never  over  so 
rugged  a  way,  nor  when  it  seemed  so  heavy  as  now. 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       189 

"  We  reached  the  place  on  the  third  day,  and  found 
the  taneta  to  be  a  bush,  and  very  much  resembling 
the  musquite,  only  with  a  much  larger  leaf.  It 
grew  to  a  height  of  from  five  to  thirty  feet.  The 
berry  was  much  more  pleasant  to  the  taste  than 
the  musquite ;  the  juice  of  it,  when  extracted  and 
mixed  with  water,  was  very  much  like  the  orange. 
The  tediousness  and  perils  of  this  trip  were  very 
much  enlivened  with  the  hope  of  getting  some 
thing  with  which  to  nourish  and  prolong  the  life 
of  Mary.  She  was  very  much  depressed,  and  ap 
peared  quite  ill  when  I  left  her. 

"After  wandering  about  for  two  days  with  but 
little  gathered,  six  of  us  started  in  quest  of  some 
place  where  the  oth-to-toa  might  be  more  abund 
ant.  We  traveled  over  twenty  miles  away  from 
our  temporary  camp.  We  found  tanetas  in  abund 
ance,  and  loaded  with  the  berry.  We  had  reached 
a  field  of  them  we  judged  never  found  before. 

"  Our  baskets  being  filled,  we  hastened  to  join 
the  camp  party  before  they  should  start  for  the 
village.  We  soon  lost  our  way,  the  night  being 
dark,  and  wandered  without  water  the  whole  night, 
and  were  nearly  all  sick  from  eating  our  oth-to-toa 
berry.  Toward  day,  nearly  exhausted,  and  three 
of  our  number  very  sick,  we  were  compelled  to  halt. 
We  watched  over  and  nursed  the  sick,  sweating 
them  with  the  medical  leaf  always  kept  with  us, 
and  about  the  only  medicine  used  by  the  Mohaves. 


190    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMA^  GIRLS  AMONG 

But  oar  efforts  were  vain,  for  before  noon  the  three 
had  breathed  their  last.  A  fire  was  kindled  and 
their  bodies  were  burned ;  and  for  several  hours 
I  expected  to  be  laid  upon  one  of  those  funeral 
pyres  in  that  deep,  dark,  and  almost  trackless  wil 
derness. 

"  I  think  I  suffered  more  during  those  two  or  three 
hours  in  mind  and  body  than  at  any  other  period  of 
my  captivity  in  the  same  time.  We  feared  to  stay 
only  as  long  as  was  necessary,  for  our  energies  were 
well-nigh  exhausted.  We  started  back,  and  I  then 
saw  an  Indian  carry  a  basket.  One  of  them  took 
the  baskets  of  the  dead,  and  kept  up  with  us.  The 
rest  of  our  party  went  howling  through  the  woods  in 
the  most  dismal  manner.  The  next  day  we  found 
the  camp,  and  found  we  had  been  nearly  around  it. 
We  were  soon  on  our  way,  and  by  traveling  all  one 
night  we  were  at  the  village. 

"It  would  be  impossible  to  put  upon  paper  any 
true  idea  of  my  feelings  and  sufferings  during  this 
trip,  on  account  of  Mary.  Had  it  not  been  for  her  I 
could  have  consented  to  have  laid  down  and  died 
with  the  three  we  buried.  I  did  not  then  expect  to 
get  back.  I  feared  she  would  not  live,  and  I  found 
on  reaching  the  village  that  she  had  materially  failed, 
and  had  been  furnished  with  scarcely  food  enough  to 
keep  her  alive.  I  sought  by  every  possible  care  to 
recruit  her,  and  for  a  short  time  she  revived.  The 
berry  we  had  gathered,  while  it  would  add  to  one's 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       191 

flesh,  and  give  an  appearance  of  healthiness,  (if  the 
stomach  could  bear  it,)  had  but  little  strengthening 
properties  in  it. 

"I  traveled  whole  days  together  in  search  of  the 
eggs  of  blackbirds  for  Mary  Ann.  These  eggs  at 
seasons  were  plenty,  but  not  then.  These  she  rel 
ished  very  much.  I  cherished  for  a  short  time  the 
hope  that  she  might,  by  care  and  nursing,  be  kept 
up  until  spring,  when  we  could  get  fish.  The  little 
store  we  had  brought  in  was  soon  greedily  devoured, 
and  with  the  utmost  difficulty  could  we  get  a  morsel. 
The  ground  was  searched  for  miles,  and  every  root 
that  could  nourish  human  life  was  gathered.  The 
Indians  became  reckless  and  quarrelsome,  and  with 
unpardonable  selfishness  each  would  struggle  for  his 
own  life  in  utter  disregard  of  his  fellows.  Mary  Ann 
failed  fast.  She  and  I  were  whole  days  at  a  time 
without  anything  to  eat;  when  by  some  chance,  or 
the  kindness  of  the  chief's  daughter,  we  would  get  a 
morsel  to  satisfy  our  cravings.  Often  would  Mary 
say  to  me,  i  I  am  well  enough,  but  I  want  something 
to  eat;  then  I  should  be  well.'  I  could  not  leave 
her  over  night.  Roots  there  were  none  I  could  reach 
by  day  and  return;  and  when  brought  in,  our  lazy 
lords  would  take  them  for  their  own  children.  Sev 
eral  children  had  died,  and  more  were  in  a  dying 
state.  Each  death  that  occurred  was  the  occasion 
of  a  night  or  day  of  frantic  howling  and  crocodile 
mourning.  Mary  was  weak  and  growing  weaker, 


192    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

and  I  gave  up  in  despair.  I  sat  by  her  side  for  a 
few  days,  most  of  the  time  only  begging  of  the 
passers-by  to  give  me  something  to  keep  Mary  alive. 
Sometimes  I  succeeded.  Had  it  not  been  for  the 
wife  and  daughter  of  the  chief,  we  could  have 
obtained  nothing.  They  seemed  really  to  feel  for 
us,  and  I  have  no  doubt  would  have  done  more 
if  in  their  power.  My  sister  would  not  complain, 
but  beg  for  something  to  eat. 

"  She  would  often  think  and  speak  in  the  most 
affectionate  manner  of  '  dear  pa  and  ma,'  and  with 
confidence  she  would  say,  '  they  suffered  an  awful 
death,  but  they  are  now  safe  and  happy  in  a  better 
and  brighter  land,  though  I  am  left  to  starve  among 
savages.'  She  seemed  now  to  regard  life  no  longer 
as  worth  preserving,  and  she  kept  constantly  repeat 
ing  expressions  of  longing  to  die  and  be  removed 
from  a  gloomy  captivity  to  a  world  where  no  tear 
of  sorrow  dims  the  eye  of  innocence  and  beauty. 
She  called  me  to  her  side  one  day  and  said :  '  Olive, 
I  shall  die  soon ;  you  will  live  and  get  away.  Father 
and  mother  have  got  through  with  sufferings,  and 
are  now  at  rest ;  I  shall  soon  be  with  them  and  those 
dear  brothers  and  sisters.'  She  then  asked  me  to 
sing,  and  she  joined  her  sweet,  clear  voice,  without 
faltering,  with  me,  and  we  tried  to  sing  the  evening 
hymn  we  had  been  taught  at  the  family  altar: 


'  The  day  is  past  and  gone, 

The  evening  shades  appear,'  etc. 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       193 

"  My  grief  was  too  great.  The  struggling  emotions 
of  my  mind  I  tried  to  keep  from  her,  but  could  not. 
She  said:  'Don't  grieve  for  me;  I  have  been  a  care 
to  you  all  the  while.  I  don't  like  to  leave  you  here 
all  alone,  but  God  is  with  you,  and  our  heavenly 
Father  will  keep  and  comfort  those  who  trust  in  him. 
O,  I  am  so  glad  that  we  were  taught  to  love  and 
serve  the  Saviour.'  She  then  asked  me  to  sing  the 
hymn  commencing: 

'  How  tedious  and  tasteless  the  hours 
"When  Jesus  no  longer  I  see.' 

"  I  tried  to  sing,  but  could  not  get  beyond  the  first 
line.  But  it  did  appear  that  visions  of  a  bright 
world  were  hers,  as  with  a  clear,  unfaltering  strain 
she  sang  the  entire  hymn.  She  gradually  sank  away 
without  much  pain,  and  all  the  time  happy.  She 
had  not  spent  a  day  in  our  captivity  without  asking 
God  to  pardon,  to  bless,  and  to  save.  I  was  faint, 
and  unable  to  stand  upon  my  feet  long  at  a  time. 
My  cravings  for  food  were  almost  uncontrollable ; 
and  at  the  same  time,  among  unfeeling  savages,  to 
watch  her  gradual  but  sure  approach  to  the  vale  of 
death,  from  want  of  food  that  their  laziness  alone 
prevented  us  having  in  abundance,  this  was  a  time 
and  scene  upon  which  I  can  only  gaze  with  horror, 
and  the  very  remembrance  of  which  I  would  blot  out 
if  I  could. 

"  She  lingered  thus  for  several  days.     She  suffered 


194       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

much,  mostly  from  hunger.  Often  did  I  hear,  as  I 
sat  near  her  weeping,  some  Indian  coming  near 
break  out  in  a  rage,  because  I  was  permitted  to  spend 
my  time  thus  with  her;  that  they  had  better  kill 
Mary,  then  I  could  go,  as  I  ought  to  be  made  to  go, 
and  dig  roots  and  procure  food  for  the  rest  of 
them. 

"  O  what  moments,  what  hours  were  these !  Every 
object  in  all  the  fields  of  sight  seemed  to  wear  a  hor 
rid  gloom. 

"  One  day,  during  her  singing,  quite  a  crowd  gath 
ered  about  her  and  seemed  much  surprised.  Some  of 
them  would  stand  for  whole  hours  and  gaze  upon 
her  countenance  as  if  enchained  by  a  strange  sight, 
and  this  while  some  of  their  own  kindred  were  dying 
in  other  parts  of  the  village.  Among  these  was  the 
wife  of  the  chief,  c  Aespaneo.'  I  ought  here  to  say 
that  neither  that  woman  nor  her  daughter  ever  gave 
us  any  unkind  treatment.  She  came  up  one  day, 
hearing  Mary  sing,  and  bent  for  some  time  silently 
over  her.  She  looked  in  her  face,  felt  of  her,  and 
suddenly  broke  out  in  a  most  piteous  lamentation. 
She  wept,  and  wept  from  the  heart  and  aloud.  I 
never  saw  a  parent  seem  to  feel  more  keenly  over  a 
dying  child.  She  sobbed,  she  moaned,  she  howled. 
And  thus  bending  over  and  weeping  she  stood  the 
whole  night.  The  next  morning,  as  I  sat  near  my 
sister,  shedding  my  tears  in  my  hands,  she  called  me 
to  her  side  and  said :  '  I  am  willing  to  die.  O,  I 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIANS.       195 


DEATH  OF  MARY  ANN  AT  THE  INDIAN  CAMP. 


shall  be  so  much  better  oft'  there!'  and-her  strength 
failed.  She  tried  to  sing,  but  was  too  weak. 

"A  number  of  the  tribe,  men,  women,  and  chil 
dren,  were  about  her,  the  chief's  wife  watching  her 
every  moment.  She  died  in  a  few  moments  after 
her  dying  words  quoted  above. 

"She  sank  to  the  sleep  of  death  as  quietly  as  sinks 
the  innocent  infant  to  sleep  in  its  mother's  arms. 

"When  I  saw  that  she  was  dead,  I  could  but  give 
T.I 


196     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIKLS  AMO^G- 

myself  up  to  loneliness,  to  wailing  and  despair. 
4  The  last  of  our  family  dead,  and  all  of  them  by  tor 
tures  inflicted  by  Indian  savages,'  I  exclaimed  to 
myself.  I  went  to  her  and  tried  to  find  remaining 
life,  but  no  pulse,  no  breath  was  there.  I  could  but 
adore  the  mercy  that  had  so  wisely  thrown  a  vail  of 
concealment  over  these  three  years  of  affliction. 
Had  their  scenes  been  mapped  out  to  be  read  before 
hand,  and  to  be  received  step  by  step,  as  they  were 
really  meted  out  to  us,  no  heart  could  have  sustained 
them. 

"I  wished  and  most  earnestly  desired  that  I  might 
at  once  lie  down  in  the  same  cold,  icy  embrace  that 
I  saw  fast  stiffening  the  delicate  limbs  of  that  dear 
sister. 

"  I  reasoned  at  times,  that  die  I  must  and  soon,  and 
that  I  had  the  right  to  end  my  sufferings  at  once,  and 
prevent  these  savages  by  cold,  cruel  neglect,  mur 
dering  me  by  the  slow  tortures  of  a  starvation  that 
had  already  its  score  of  victims  in  our  village.  The 
only  heart  that  shared  my  woes  was  now  still,  the 
only  heart  (as  I  then  supposed)  that  survived  the 
massacre  of  seven  of  our  family  group  was  now  cold 
in  death,  and  why  should  I  remain  to  feel  the  gnaw-- 
ings  of  hunger  and  pain  a  few  days,  and  then,  with 
out  any  to  care  for  me,  unattended  and  uncared  for, 
lay  dowTn  and  die.  At  times  I  resolved  to  take 
a  morsel  of  food  by  stealth,  (if  it  could  be  found,) 
and  make  a  desperate  attempt  to  escape. 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  IKDIANS.         197 

"There  were  two,  however,  who  seemed  not 
wholly  insensible  to  my  condition,  these  were  the 
wife  and  daughter  of  the  chief.  They  manifested  a 
sympathy  that  had  not  gathered  about  me  since  the 
first  closing  in  of  the  night  of  my  captivity  upon  me. 
The  Indians,  at  the  direction  of  the  chief,  began  to 
make  preparations  to  burn  the  body  of  my  sister. 
This,  it  seemed,  I  could  not  endure.  I  sought  a 
place  to  weep  and  pray,  and  I  then  tasted  the  blessed 
ness  of  realizing  that  there  is  One  upon  whom  the 
heart's  heaviest  load  can  be  placed,  and  He  never 
disappointed  me.  My  dark,  suicidal  thoughts  fled, 
and  I  became  resigned  to  my  lot.  Standing  by  the 
corpse,  with  my  eyes  fastened  on  that  angel-counte 
nance  of  Mary  Ann,  the  wife  of  the  chief  came  to  me 
and  gave  me  to  understand  that  she  had  by  much 
entreaty,  obtained  the  permission  of  her  lord  to  give 
me  the  privilege  of  disposing  of  the  dead  body  as  I 
should  choose.  This  was  a  great  consolation,  and  I 
thanked  her  most  earnestly.  It  lifted  a  burden  from 
my  mind  that  caused  me  to  weep  tears  of  gratitude, 
and  also  to  note  the  finger  of  that  Providence  to 
whom  I  had  fully  committed  myself,  and  whom  I 
plainly  saw  strewing  my  way  with  tokens  of  his  kind 
regards  toward  me.  The  chief  gave  me  two  blankets, 
and  in  these  they  wrapped  the  corpse.  Orders  were 
then  given  to  two  Indians  to  follow  my  directions  in 
disposing  of  the  body.  I  selected  a  spot  in  that  little 
garden  ground,  where  I  had  planted  and  wept  with 


198      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATM-AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

my  dear  sister.  In  this  they  dug  a  grave  about  five 
feet  deep,  and  into  it  they  gently  lowered  the  re 
mains  of  my  last,  my  only  sister,  and  closed  her  last 
resting-place  with  the  sand.  The  reader  may 
imagine  my  feelings,  as  I  stood  by  that  grave.  The 
whole  painful  past  seemed  to  rush  across  my  mind, 
as  I  lingered  there.  It  was  the  first  and  only  grave 
in  all  that  valley,  and  that  inclosing  my  own  sister. 
Around  me  was  a  large  company  of  half-dressed, 
fierce-looking  savages,  some  serious,  some  mourning, 
some  laughing  over  this  novel  method  of  disposing 
of  the  dead  ;  others  in  breathless  silence  watched  the 

'  4 

movements  of  that  dark  hour,  with  a  look  that 
seemed  to  say,  '  This  is  the  way  white  folks  do,'  and 
exhibiting  no  feeling  or  care  beyond  that.  I  longed 
to  plant  a  rose  upon  her  grave,  but  the  Mohaves 
knew  no  beauty,  and  read  no  lesson  in  flowers,  and 
so  this  mournful  pleasure  was  denied  me. 

"  When  the  excitement  of  that  hour  passed,  with  it 
seemed  to  pass  my  energy  and  ambition.  I  was 
faint  and  weak,  drowsy  and  languid.  I  found  but 
little  strength  from  the  scant  rations  dealt  out  to  me. 
I  was  rapidly  drooping,  and  becoming  more  and 
more  anxious  to  shut  my  eyes  to  all  about  me,  and 
sink  to  a  swreet,  untroubled  sleep  beneath  that  green 
carpeted  valley.  This  was  the  only  time  in  which, 
without  any  reserve,  I  really  kmged  to  die,  and  cease 
at  once  to  breathe  and  suffer.  That  same  wToman, 
the  wife  of  the  chief,  came  again  to  the  solace  and 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       199 

relief  of  my  destitution  and  woe.  I  was  now  able  to 
walk  but  little,  and  had  resigned  all  care  and  anxiety, 
and  concluded  to  wait  until  those  burning  sensations 
caused  by  want  of  nourishment  should  consume  the 
last  thread  of  my  life,  and  shut  my  eyes  and  senses 
in  the  darkness  that  now  hid  them  from  my  sister. 

"  Just  at  this  time  this  kind  woman  came  to  me 
with  some  corn  gruel  in  a  hollow  stone.  I  marveled 
to  know  how  she  had  obtained  it.  The  handful  of 
seed  corn  that  my  sister  and  I  had  hid  in  the  ground, 
between  two  stones,  did  not  come  to  my  mind.  But 
this  woman,  this  Indian  woman,  had  uncovered  a 
part  of  what  she  had  deposited  against  spring  plant 
ing,  had  ground  it  to  a  coarse  meal,  and  of  it  pre 
pared  this  gruel  for  me.  I  took  it,  and  soon  she 
brought  me  more.  I  began  to  revive.  I  felt  a  new 
life  and  strength  given  me  by  this  morsel,  and  was 
cheered  by  the  unlooked-for  exhibition  of  sympathy 
that  attended  it.  She  had  the  discretion  to  deny  the 
unnatural  cravings  that  had  been  kindled  by  the 
small  quantity  she  brought  first,  and  dealt  a  little  at 
a  time,  until  within  three  days  I  gained  a  vigor  and 
cheerfulness  I  had  not  felt  for  weeks.  She  bestowed 
this  kindness  in  a  sly  and  unobserved  manner,  and 
enjoined  secrecy  upon  me,  for  a  reason  which  the 
reader  can  judge.  She  had  done  it  when  some  of  her 
own  kin  were  in  a  starving  condition.  It  waked  up 
a  hope  within  ray  bosom  that  reached  beyond  the 
immediate  kindness.  I  could  not  account  for  it  but 


200      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMOJSG 

by  looking  to  that  Power  in  whose  hands  are  the 
hearts  of  the  savage  as  well  as  the  civilized  man.  I 
gathered  a  prospect  from  these  unexpected  and 
kindly  interpositions,  of  an  ultimate  escape  from  my 
bondage.  It  was  the  hand  of  God,  and  I  would  do 
violence  to  the  emotions  I  then  felt  and  still  feel, 
violence  to  the  strong  determination  I  then  made  to 
acknowledge  all  his  benefits,  if  I  should  neglect  this 
opportunity  to  give  a  public,  grateful  record  of  my 
sense  of  his  goodness. 

"  The  woman  had  buried  that  corn  to  keep  it  from 
the  lazy  crowd  about  her,  who  would  have  devoured 
it  in  a  moment,  and  in  utter  recklessness  of  next 
year's  reliance.  She  did  it  when  deaths  by  starva 
tion  and  sickness  were  occurring  every  day  through 
out  the  settlement.  Had  it  not  been  for  her,  I  must 
have  perished.  From  this  circumstance  I  learned  to 
chide  my  hasty  judgment  against  ALL  the  Indian 
race,  and  also,  that  kindness  is  not  always  a  stranger 
to  the  untutored  and  untamed  bosom.  I  saw  in  this 
that  their  savageness  is  as  much  a  fruit  of  their 
ignorance  as  of  any  want  of  a  susceptibility  to  feel  • 
the  throbbings  of  true  humanity,  if  they  could  be 
properly  appealed  to. 

"  By  my  own  exertions  I  was  able  now  to  procure 
a  little  upon  which  to  nourish  my  half-starved  stom 
ach.  By  using  about  half  of  my  seed  corn,  and 
getting  an  occasional  small  dose  of  bitter,  fermented 
oth-to-toa  soup,  I  managed  to  drag  my  life  along  to 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIAN rf.         201 

March,  1854.  During  this  month  and  April  I  pro 
cured  a  few  small  roots,  at  a  long  distance  from  the 
village ;  also  some  fish  from  the  lake.  I  took  par 
ticular  pains  to  guard  the  little  wheat  garden  that  we 
had  planted  the  autumn  before,  and  I  also  planted  a 
few  kernels  of  corn  and  some  melon  seeds.  Day 
after  day  I  watched  this  little  'mutautea,'  lest  the 
birds  might  bring  upon  me  another  winter  like  that 
now  passed.  In  my  absence  Aespaneo  would  watch 
it  for  me.  As  the  fruit  of  my  care  and  vigilant 
watching,  I  gathered  about  one  half  bushel  of  corn, 
and  about  the  same  quantity  of  wheat.  My  melons 
were  destroyed. 

"  During  the  growing  of  this  crop,  I  subsisted 
principally  upon  a  small  root,*  about  the  size  of  a 
hazel-nut,  which  I  procured  by  traveling  long  dis 
tances,  with  fish.  Sometimes,  after  a  long  and 
fatiguing  search,  I  would  procure  a  handful  of  these 
roots,  and,  on  bringing  them  to  camp,  was  compelled 
to  divide  them  with  some  stout,  lazy  monsters,  who 
had  been  sunning  themselves  all  day  by  the  river. 

"  I  also  came  near  losing  my  corn  by  the  black 
birds.  Driven  by  the  same  hunger,  seemingly,  that 
was  preying  upon  the  human  tribe,  they  would 
fairly  darken  the  air,  and  it  was  difficult  to  keep 
them  off,  especially  as  I  was  compelled  to  be  absent 
to  get  food  for  immediate  use.  But  they  were  not 
the  only  robbers  I  had  to  contend  against.  There 

*  I  have  several  of  these  ground-nuts  now  in  my  possession. 


202    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

were  some  who,  like  our  white  loafers,  had  a  great 
horror  of  honest  labor,  and  they  would  shun  even  a 
little  toil,  with  a  conscientious  abhorrence,  at  any 
hazard.  They  watched  my  little  corn-patch  with 
hungry  and  thieving  eyes,  and,  but  for  the  chief, 
would  have  eaten  the  corn  green  and  in  the  ear.  As 
harvest  drew  near  I  watched,  from  before  daylight 
until  dark  again,  to  keep  oif  these  red  vultures  and 
the  blackbirds  from  a  spot  of  ground  as  large  as  an 
ordinary  dwelling-house.  I  had  to  do  my  accus 
tomed  share  of  musquite  gathering,  also,  in  June 
and  July.  This  we  gathered  in  abundance.  The 
Colorado  overflowed  this  winter  and  spring,  and  the 
wheat  and  corn  produced  well,  so  that  in  autumn  the 
tribe  was  better  provided  with  food  than  it  had  been 
for  several  years. 

"The  social  habits  of  these  Indians,  and  the  traits  of 
character  on  which  they  are  founded,  and  to  which 
they  give  expression,  may  be  illustrated  by  a  single  in 
stance  as  well  as  a  thousand.  The  portion  of  the  val 
ley  over  which  the  population  extends,  is  about  forty 
miles  long.  Their  convivial  seasons  were  occasions 
of  large  gatherings,  tumultuous  rejoicings,  and  (so  far 
as  their  limited  productions  would  allow)  of  excess  in 
feasting.  The  year  1854  was  one  of  unusual  bounty 
and  thrift.  They  planted  more  than  usual ;  and  by 
labor  and  the  overflow  of  the  river,  the  seed  depos 
ited  brought  forth  an  unparalleled  increase.  During 
the  autumn  of  that  year,  the  residents  of  the  north 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.         203 

part  of  the  valley  set  apart  a  day  for  feasting  and 
merry-making.  Notice  was  given  about  four  weeks 
beforehand  ;  great  preparations  were  made,  and  a 
large  number  invited.  Their  supply  for  the  appetite 
on  that  day  consisted  of  wheat,  corn,  pumpkins,  beans, 
etc.  These  were  boiled,  and  portions  of  them  mixed 
with  ground  seed,  such  as  serececa,  (seed  of  a  weed,) 
moeroco,  (of  pumpkins.)  On  the  day  of  the  feast  the 
Indians  masked  themselves,  some  with  bark,  some 
with  paint,  some  with  skins.  On  the  day  previous 
to  the  feast,  the  Indians  of  our  part  of  the  valley,  who 
had  been  favored  with  an  invitation,  were  gathered 
at  the  house  of  the  chief,  preparatory  to  taking  the 
trip  in  company  to  the  place  of  the  feast.  Some 
daubed  their  faces  arid  hair  with  mud,  others  with 
paint,  so  as  to  give  to  each  an  appearance  totally  dif 
ferent  from  his  or  her  natural  state.  I  was  told  that  I 
could  go  along  with  the  rest.  This  to  me  was  no  priv 
ilege,  as  I  knew  too  well  what  cruelty  and  violence 
they  were  capable  of  when  excited,  as  on  their  days 
of  public  gathering  they  were  liable  to  be.  How 
ever,  I  was  safer  there  than  with  those  whom  they 
left  behind. 

"The  Indians  went  slowly,  sometimes  in  regular, 
and  sometimes  in  irregular  march,  yelling,  howling, 
singing,  and  gesticulating,  until  toward  night  they 
were  wrought  up  to  a  perfect  phrenzy.  They  halted 
about  one  mile  from  the  "  north  settlement,"  and 
after  building  a  fire,  commenced  their  war-dance, 


204      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIELS  AMONG 

which  they  kept  up  until  about  midnight.  On  this 
occasion  I  witnessed  some  of  the  most  shameful  inde 
cencies,  on  the  part  of  both  male  and  female,  that 
came  to  my  eye  for  the  five  years  of  my  stay  among 
Indians. 

"  The  next  morning  the  Indians  who  had  prepared 
the  feast  (some  of  whom  had  joined  in  the  dance  of 
the  previous  evening)  came  with  their  squaws,  each 
bearing  upon  their  heads  a  Coopoesech,  containing  a 
cake,  or  a  stone  dish  filled  with  soup,  or  boiled  vege 
tables.  These  cakes  were  made  of  wheat,  ground, 
and  mixed  with  boiled  pumpkins.  This  dough  was 
rolled  out  sometimes  to  two  feet  in  diameter ;  then 
placed  in  hot  sand,  a  leaf  and  a  layer  of  sand  laid 
over  the  loaf,  and  a  fire  built  over  the  whole,  until 
it  was  baked  through.  After  depositing  these  dishes, 
filled  with  their  prepared  dainties,  upon  a  slight 
mound  near  by,  the  whole  tribe  then  joined  in  a  war- 
dance,  which  lasted  nearly  twelve  hours.  After  this 
the  dishes  and  their  contents  were  taken  by  our  party 
and  borne  back  to  our  homes,  when  and  where  feast 
ing  and  dancing  again  commenced,  and  continued 
until  their  supplies  were  exhausted,  and  they  from 
sheer  weariness  were  glad  to  fly  to  the  embrace  of 
sleep.  It  would  be  a  i  shame  even  to  speak '  of  all 
the  violence  and  indecency  into  which  they  plunged 
on  these  occasions.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  no  modesty, 
no  sense  of  shame,  no  delicacy,  that  throw  so  many 
wholesome  hedges  and  limitations  about  the  respect- 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.       205 

ive  sexes  on  occasions  of  conviviality  where  civiliza 
tion  elevates  and  refines,  were  there  to  interfere  with 
scenes  the  remembrance  of  which  creates  a  doubt 
whether  these  degraded  bipeds  belong  to  the  human 
or  brute  race. 

"Thus  ended  one  of  the  many  days  of  such  per 
formances  that  I  witnessed  ;  and  I  found  it  difficult 
to  decide  whether  most  of  barbarity  appeared  in 
these,  or  at  those  seasons  of  wild  excitement  occa 
sioned  by  the  rousing  of  their  revengeful  and  brutal 
passions. 

"  Of  all  seasons  during  my  captivity,  these  of  con 
course  and  excitement  most  disgusted  me  with  the 
untamed  Indian.  When  I  remember  what  my  eyes 
have  witnessed,  I  am  led  to  wonder  and  adore  at  my 
preservation  for  a  single  year,  or  that  my  life  was  not 
brutalized,  a  victim  to  their  inhumanity. 

"I  felt  cheerful  again,  only  when  that  loneliness 
and  desolateness  which  had  haunted  me  since  Mary's 
death,  would  sadden  and  depress  my  spirits.  The 
same  woman  that  had  saved  my  life,  and  furnished 
me  with  ground  and  seed  to  raise  corn  and  wheat, 
and  watched  it  for  me  for  many  days,  now  procured 
from  the  chief  a  place  where  I  might  store  it,  with 
the  promise  from  him  that  every  kernel  should  go  for 
my  own  maintenance." 

It  is  not  to  go  again  over  the  melancholy  events 
that  have  been  rehearsed  in  the  last  chapter,  that  we 
ask  the  reader  to  tarry  for  a  moment  ere  his  eye  be- 


206       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAINT  GIRLS  AMO1STG 

gins  to  trace  the  remaining  scenes  of  Olive's  cap 
tivity,  which,  furnish  the  next  chapter,  and  in  which 
we  see  her  under  the  light  of  a  flickering,  unsteady 
hope  of  a  termination  of  her  captivity  either  by  res 
cue  or  death. 

But  when  in  haste  this  chapter  was  penned  for  the 
first  edition,  it  was  then,  and  has  since  been  felt  by 
the  writer,  that  there  was  an  interest  hanging  about 
the  events  of  the  same,  especially  upon  the  closing 
days  and  hours  of  little  Mary's  brief  life,  that  prop 
erly  called,  according  to  the  intent  of  this  narrative, 
for  a  longer  stay.  A  penning  of  mere  facts  does  not 
set  forth,  or  glance  at  all  that  clusters  about  that 
pale,  dying  child  as  she  lies  in  the  door  of  the  tent, 
the  object  of  the  enchained  curious  attention  of  the 
savages,  by  whose  cold  neglect  the  flower  of  her 
sweet  life  was  thus  nipped  in  the  bud.  And  we  feel 
confident  of  sharing,  to  some  extent,  the  feelings  of 
the  sensitive  and  intelligent  reader,  when  we  state 
that  the  two  years'  suffering,  by  the  pressure  of 
which  her  life  was  arrested,  and  the  circumstances 
surrounding  those  dying  moments,  make  up  a  record, 
than  which  seldom  has  there  been  one  that  appeals 
to  the  tender  sensibilities  of  our  being  more  directly, 
or  to  our  serious  consideration  more  profitably. 

Look  at  these  two  girls  in  the  light  of  the  first 
camp-fire  that  glowed  upon  the  faces  of  themselves 
and  their  captors,  the  first  dreary  evening  of  their 
captivity.  By  one  hour's  cruel  deeds  arid  murder 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.         20 7 

they  had  suddenly  been  bereft  of  parents,  brothers, 
and  sisters,  and  consigned  to  the  complete  control  of 
a  fiendish  set  of  men,  of  the  cruelty  of  whose  tender 
mercies  they  had  already  received  the  first  and  uner 
ring  chapter.  Look  at  them  toiling  day  and  night, 
from  this  on  for  several  periods  of  twenty-four 
hours,  up  rugged  ascents,  bruised  and  whipped  by 
the  ruggedness  of  their  way  and  the  mercilessness  of 
their  lords.  Their  strength  failing ;  the  distance  be 
tween  them  and  the  home  and  way  of  the  white  man 
increasing;  the  dreariness  and  solitude  of  the  region 
enbosoming  them  thickening ;  and  each  step  brooded 
over  by  the  horrors  left  behind,  and  the  worse  horrors 
that  sat  upon  the  brightest  future  that  at  the  hap 
piest  rovings  of  fancy  could  be  possibly  anticipated. 

In  imagination  we  lean  out  our  souls  to  listen  to 
the  sobs  and  sighs  that  went  up  from  those  hearts — 
hearts  bleeding  from  wounds  and  pains  tenfold  more 
poignant  than  those  that  lacerated  and  wrung  their 
quivering  flesh.  T\Te  look  upon  them,  as  with  their 
captors  they  encircle  the  wild  light  of  the  successive 
camp-fires,  kindled  for  long  distant  halts,  upon  their 
way  to  the  yet  unseen  and  dreaded  home  of  the 
"  inhabitants  of  rocks  and  tents."  We  look  upon 
them  as  they  are  ushered  into  their  new  home, 
greeted  with  the  most  inhuman  and  terror-kindling 
reception  given  them  by  this  unfeeling  horde  of  land- 
sharks  ;  thus  to  look,  imagine,  and  ponder,  we  find 
enough,  especially  when  the  age  and  circumstances 


208    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIELS  AMONG 

of  these  captive  girls  are  considered,  to  lash  our 
thoughts  with  indignation  toward  their  oppressors, 
and  kindle  our  minds  with  more  than  we  can  express 
with  the  word  sympathy  for  these  their  innocent 
victims. 

In  little  less  than  one  year,  and  into  that  year  is 
crowded  all  of  toil  and  suffering  that  we  can  credit 
as  possible  for  them  to  survive,  and  then  they  are 
sold  and  again  en  route  for  another  new  and  strange 
home,  in  a  wild  as  distant  from  their  Apache  home 
as  that  from  the  hill  where,  but  a  year  before,  in 
their  warm  flowing  blood,  their  moaning,  mangled 
kindred  had  been  left. 

Scarcely  had  they  reached  the  Mohave  Yalley  ere 
the  elder  sister  saw  with  pain,  the  sad  and  already  ap 
parently  irremovable  effects  of  past  hardships  upon 
the  constitution  of  the  younger.  What  tenderness, 
what  caution,  what  vigilant  watching,  what  anxious, 
unrelieved  solicitude  mark  the  conduct  of  that  noble 
heart  toward  her  declining  and  only  sister?  Indeed, 
what  interest  prompted  her  to  do  all  in  her  power  to 
preserve  her  life?  Not  only  her  only  sister,  but  the 
only  one  (to  her  then)  that  remained  of  the  family 
from  whom  they  had  been  ruthlessly  torn.  And 
should  her  lamp  of  life  cease,  thereby  would  be 
extinguished  the  last  earthly  solace  and  cordial  for 
the  dark  prison  life  that  inclosed  her,  and  that  threw 
its  w?lls  of  gloom  and  adamant  between  her  and  the 
abodes  and  sunshine  of  civilized  life.  Yet  death  had 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.        209 

marked  that  little  clierub  girl  for  an  early  victim. 
Slowly,  and  yet  uncomplainingly,  does  her  feeble 
frame  and  strength  yield  to  the  heavy  hand  of  woe 
and  want  that  met  her,  in  all  the  ghastliness  and 
horror  of  unchangeable  doom,  at  every  turn  and 
hour  of  her  weary  days.  "What  mystery  hangs  upon 
events  and  persons !  How  impenetrable  the  per 
missions  of  Providence !  How  impalpable  and 
evasive  of  all  our  wisdom  that  secret  power,  by  which 
cherished  plans  and  purposes  are  often  shaped  to 
conclusions  and  terminations  so  wide  of  the  bright 
design  that  lighted  them  on  to  happy  accomplish 
ment  in  the  mind  of  the  mortal  proposer  ! 

Mary  Ann  had  been  the  fondly  cherished,  and  ten 
derly  nursed  idol  of  that  domestic  group.  Early  had 
she  exhibited  a  precocity  in  intellect,  and  in  moral 
sensitiveness  and  attainment,  that  had  made  her  the 
subject  of  a  peculiar  parental  affection,  and  the  ever 
cheerful  radiating  center  of  light,  and  love,  and  hap 
piness  to  the  remainder  of  the  juvenile  family.  But 
she  ever  possessed  a  strength  of  body  and  vigor  of 
health  far  inferior,  and  disproportioned  to  her  mental 
and  moral  progress.  She  was  a  correct  reader  at 
four  years.  She  was  kept  almost  constantly  at 
school,  both  from  her  choice,  and  the  promise  she 
gave  to  delighted  parents  of  a  future  appreciation 
and  good  improvement  of  these  advantages.  With 
the  early  exhibition  of  an  earnest  thirst  for  knowl 
edge  that  she  gave,  there  was  also  a  strict  regard  for 


210    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

truth,  and  a  hearty,  happy  obedience  to  the  law  of 
God  and  the  authority  of  her  parents.  At  five  years 
and  a  half  she  had  read  her  Bible  through.  She  was 
a  constant  attendant  upon  Sabbath  school,  into  all 
the  exercises  of  which  she  entered  with  delight ;  and 
to  her  rapid  improvement  and  profit  in  the  subjects 
with  which  she  there  became  intimate  and  iden 
tified,  may  be  attributed  the  moral  superiority  she 
displayed  during  her  captivity. 

She  had  a  clear,  sweet  voice,  and  the  children  now 
live  in  this  state  who  have  witnessed  the  earnestness 
and  rapture  with  which  she  joined  in  singing  the 
hymns  allotted  to  Sabbath-school  hours.  O  how 
little  of  the  sad  after-part  of  Mary's  life  entered  into 
the  minds  of  those  parents  as  thus  they  directed  the 
childish,  tempted  steps  of  their  little  daughter  into 
the  paths  of  religious  pursuits  and  obedience. 

Who  shall  say  that  the  facts  in  her  childish  expe 
rience  and  years  herein  glanced  at,  had  not  essen 
tially  to  do  with  the  spirit  and  preparedness  that  she 
brought  to  the  encountering  and  enduring  of  the  ter 
rible  fate  that  closed  her  eyes  among  savages  at 
eight  years  of  age. 

As  we  look  at  her  fading,  withering,  and  wasting 
at  the  touch  of  cold  cruelty,  the  object  of  anxious 
watchings  and  frequent  and  severe  painstaking  on 
the  part  of  her  elder  sister,  who  spared  no  labor  or 
fatigue  to  glean  the  saving  morsel  to  prolong  her 
sinking  life,  we  can  but  adore  that  never-sleeping 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         211 

Goodness  that  had  strewn  her  way  to  this  dark  scene 
with  so  many  preparing  influences  and  counsels. 

Young  as  she  was,  she  with  her  sister  were  first  to 
voice  those  hymns  of  praise  to  the  one  God,  in  which 
the  grateful  offerings  of  Christian  hearts  go  up  to 
him,  in  the  ear  of  an  untutored  and  demoralized 
tribe  of  savages.  Hers  was  the  first  Christian  death 
they  ever  witnessed,  perhaps  the  last ;  and  upon  her, 
as  with  composure  and  cheerfulness  (not  the  sullen 
submission  of  which  they  boast)  she  came  down  to 
the  vale  of  death,  they  gazed  with  every  indication 
of  an  interest  and  curiosity  that  showed  the  workings 
of  something  more  than  the  ordinary  solemnities  that 
had  gathered  them  about  the  paling  cheek  and  quiv 
ering  lip  of  members  of  their  own  tribe. 

Precious  girl !  sweet  flower  !  nipped  in  the  bud  by 
untimely  and  rude  blasts.  Yet  the  fragrance  of  the 
ripe  virtues  that  budded  and  blossomed  upon  so 
tender  and  frail  a  stalk  shall  not  die.  If  ever  the 
bright  throng  that  flame  near  the  throne  would 
delight  to  cease  their  song,  descend  and  poise  on 
steady  wing  to  wait  the  last  heaving  of  a  suffering 
mortal's  bosom,  that  at  the  parting  breath  they  might 
encircle  the  fluttering  spirit  and  bear  it  to  the  bosom 
of  God,  it  was  when  thou  didst,  upon  the  breath 
of  sacred  song,  joined  in  by  thy  living  sister,  yield 
thy  spirit  to  Him  who  kindly  cut  short  thy  sufferings 
that  he  might  begin  thy  bliss. 

A  Sabbath-school  scholar,  dying  in  an  Indian 

14 


212    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

camp,  three  hundred  miles  from  even  the  nearest 
trail  of  the  white  man,  buoyed  and  gladdened  by 
bright  visions  of  beatitudes  that  make  her  oblivious 
of  present  pain,  and  long  to  enter  upon  the  future 
estate  to  which  a  correct  and  earnest  instruction  had 
been  pointing ! 

Who  can  say  but  that  there  lives  the  little  Mohave 
boy  or  girl,  or  the  youth  who  will  yet  live  to  rehearse 
in  the  ear  of  a  listening  American  auditory,  and  in  a 
rough,  uncouth  jargon,  the  wondrous  impression  of 
that  hour  upon  his  mind. 

Already  we  see  the  arms  of  civilization  embracing 
a  small  remnant  of  that  waning  tribe,  and  among  its 
revived  records,  though  unwritten,  we  find  the  death 
of  the  American  captive  in  the  door  of  the  chief's 
"Pasiado"  When  they  gathered  about  her  at  that 
dying  moment,  many  were  the  curious  questions  with 
which  some  of  them  sought  to  ascertain  the  secret  of 
her  (to  them)  strange  appearance.  The  sacred  hymns 
learned  in  Sabbath  school  and  at  a  domestic  shrine, 
and  upon  which  that  little  spirit  now  breathed  its  de 
vout  emotions  in  the  ear  of  God,  were  inquired  after. 
They  asked  her  where  she  expected  to  go  ?  She  told 
them  that  she  was  going  to  a  better  place  than  the 
mound  to  which  they  sent  the  spirits  of  their  dead. 
And  many  questions  did  they  ask  her  and  her  older 
sister  as  to  the  extent  of  the  knowledge  they  had  of 
such  a  bright  world,  if  one  there  was.  And  though 
replies  to  many  of  their  queries  before  had  been  met 

- 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         213 

by  mockings  and  ridicule,  yet  now  not  one  gazed, 
or  listened,  or  questioned,  to  manifest  any  disposi 
tion  to  taunt  or  accuse  at  the  hour  of  that  strange 
dying. 

The  wife  of  the  chief  plied  her  questions  with 
earnestness,  and  with  an  air  of  sincerity,  and  the  ex 
hibition  of  the  most  intense  mental  agitation,  show 
ing  that  she  was  not  wholly  incredulous  of  the  new 
and  strange  replies  she  received. 

TALE   OF   THE   TWO   CAPTIVES. 

One  night  a  large  company  were  assembled  at  the 
hut  of  one  of  the  sub-chiefs.  It  was  said  that  this 
Indian,  Adpadarama,  was  the  illegitimate  son  of  the 
present  chief,  and  there  was  considerable  dispute  be 
tween  him  and  two  of  the  chief's  legitimate  sons  as 
to  their  respective  rights  to  the  chiefship  on  the 
death  of  the  father. 

At  the  gathering  referred  to  the  following  anec 
dote  was  related,  which  is  here  given  to  show  the 
strength  of  their  superstitious,  and  the  unmitigated 
cruelties  which  are  sometimes  perpetrated  by  them 
under  the  sanction  of  these  barbaric  beliefs.  This 
sub-chief  said  that  one  day,  when  he,  in  company 
with  several  of  his  relatives  and  two  Cochopa  cap 
tives,  was  away  in  the  mountains  on  a  hunting-tour, 
his  (reputed)  father  fell  violently  sick.  He  grew 
worse  for  several  days.  One  day  he  was  thought  to 


214    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

be  dying.  "  When  I  was  convinced  that  he  could 
not  live,"  said  Adpadarama,  or  to  that  effect,  "  I  re 
solved  to  kill  one  of  the  captives,  and  then  wait  until 
my  father  should  die,  when  I  would  kill  the  other. 
So  I  took  a  stone  tomahawk  and  went  out  to  the  little 
fire  near  the  camping-tent,  where  they  were  eating 
some  berries  they  had  just  picked,  and  I  told  one  of 
them  to  step  out,  for  I  was  a  going  to  kill  her  to  see 
if  it  would  not  save  my  father.  Then  she  cried," 
(and  at  this  he  showed  by  signs,  and  frowns,  and  all 
manner  of  gestures  how  delighted  he  was  at  her 
misery,)  "  and  begged  for  her  life.  But  I  went  up  to 
her  and  struck  her  twice  with  this  tomahawk,  when 
she  fell  dead  upon  the  ground.  I  then  told  the  other 
that  I  should  kill  her  so  soon  as  my  father  died ;  that 
I  should  burn  them  both  with  his  body,  and  then 
they  would  go  to  be  his  slaves  up  in  yonder  eliercha," 
(pointing  to  their  heavenly  hill.)  "Well,  about  two 
days  after  my  father  died,  and  I  was  mad  to  think 
that  the  killing  of  the  captive  had  not  saved  him.  So 
I  went  straight  and  killed  the  other,  but  I  killed  her 
by  burning,  so  as  to  be  sure  that  the  flames  should 
take  her  to  my  father  to  serve  him  forever." 

Such  are  facts  that  dimly  hint  at  the  vague  and 
atrocious  theories  that  crowd  their  brain  and  hold 
iron  sway  over  their  minds.  And  in  all  the  abomina 
tions  and  indecencies  authorized  by  their  supersti 
tions,  they  are  not  only  prompt  and  faithful,  but  the 
more  degrading  and  barbarous  the  rite,  the  more 


THE  APACIIE  AND  MOIIAVE  INDIANS.         215 

does  their  zeal  and   enthusiasm   kindle   at   its  per 
formance. 

Adpadarama  said  he  burned,  as  soon  as  he  re 
turned,  his  father's  house,  and  all  his  dishes,  and 
utensils,  and  bark-garments,  so  that  his  father  might 
have  them  to  contribute  to  his  happiness  where  he 
had  gone. 


216      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 


CHAPTEK  Y. 

The  Mohaves —  Their  Sports  —  An  Expedition  of  Hostility  against  the 
Cochopas  —  Its  Design  —  Tradition  concerning  it  —  The  Preparation  — 
Their  Custom  of  Sacrificing  a  Prisoner  on  the  Death  in  War  of  One  of 
their  own  Number — The  Anxiety  of  Olive — They  depart  —  Their  Ke- 
turn— The  Fruit  of  the  Expedition  —  The  Five  Cochopa  Captives  — 
Nowereha  —  Her  Attempt  to  Escape  —  Her  Eecapture  and  Horrid 
Death— The  Physicians— Evil  Spirits  — The  Mohave  Mode  of  Doctor 
ing  —  The  Yumas  —  "  Francisco,"  the  Yuina  Indian  —  Hopes  of  Escape. 

"L$r  the  spring  of  1854,  the  project  of  some  exciting 
hostile  expedition  against  a  distant  tribe  was  agitated 
among  the  Mohaves.  It  was  some  time  before  any 
but  the  '  Council'  knew  of  the  definite  purpose  of 
the  expedition.  But  when  their  plans  had  been  laid, 
and  all  their  intentions  circulated  among  the  tribe,  it 
proved  to  be  one  of  war  upon  the  Cochopas,  a  large 
tribe  seven  hundred  miles  away.  The  Cochopas  were 
a  tribe  with  whom  the  Mohaves  had  never  been  at 
peace.  According  to  tradition,  this  hostility  had 
been  kept  actively  flaming  through  all  past  genera 
tions.  And  the  Mohaves  were  relying  with  equal 
certainty  upon  the  truth  of  traditional  prophecy  that 
they  were  ultimately  to  subject  the  Cochopas  to  their 
sway,  or  obliterate  them.  The  Mohaves  had  as  yet 
been  successful  in  every  engagement.  They  were 
confident  of  success,  and  this  was  all  the  glory  their 


THE   APACIli:    AND    MOIIAVE   INDIANS.       217 

ambition  was  capable  of  grasping.  As  for  any 
intrinsic  merit  in  the  matter  of  the  contest,  none 
was  known  to  exist.  About  sixty  warriors  made 
preparations  for  a  long  time  to  undertake  the  ex 
pedition. 

"Bows  and  arrows  and  war-clubs  were  prepared 
in  abundance,  also  stone-knives.  The  war-club  was 
made  of  a  very  solid  wood  that  grew  upon  the  mount 
ain.  It  was  of  a  tree  that  they  called  t  Cooachee,' 
very  hard  and  heavy,  and  lost  but  very  little  of  its 
weight  in  the  seasoning  process. 

"  Great  preparations  were  also  made  by  the  squaws, 
though  with  much  reluctance,  as  most  of  them  were 
opposed  to  the  expedition,  as  they  had  been  also  in 
the  past  to  kindred  ones.  Those  of  them  who  had 
husbands  and  brothers  enlisted  in  the  expedition, 
tried  every  expedient  in  their  power  to  dissuade 
them  from  it.  They  accused  them  of  folly  and  a 
mere  lust  of  war,  and  prayed  them  not  thus  to  ex 
pose  their  own  lives  and  the  lives  of  their  dependent 
ones.  It  was  reported  that  since  the  last  attack  upon 
them,  the  Cochopees  had  strengthened  themselves 
with  numerous  and  powerful  allies,  by  uniting  sev 
eral  surrounding  tribes  with  themselves  for  purposes 
of  war.  This  was  pleaded  by  these  interested  women 
against  the  present  purpose,  as  they  feared  that  this 
distant  tribe  would  be  now  able  to  avenge  past 
injury,  besides  beating  the  Mohaves  in  this  projected 
engagement.  But  go  they  would,  and  on  the  day  of 


218      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS 


their  departure  there  was  a  convocation  of  nearly  the 
whole  tribe,  and  it  was  a  time  of  wild,  savage  excite 
ment  and  deep  mourning. 

"  I  soon  learned,  though  by  mere  accident,  that  so 
far  as  life  was  concerned,  I  had  an  interest  in  this 
expedition  equal  to  that  of  the  most  exposed  among 
the  warriors.  It  had  been  an  unvarying  custom 
among  them  that-  if  any  of  their  number  should 
be  slain  in  battle,  the  lives  of  prisoners  or  captives 
must  be  sacrificed  therefor,  up  to  the  number  of 
the  slain,  (if  that  number  should  be  among  them,) 
and  that  in  the  most  torturing  manner.  This  was 
not  done  to  appease  their  gods,  for  they  had  none, 
but  was  a  gift  to  the  spirits  of  the  other  spheres. 
Their  only  theory  about  a  Supreme  Being  is  that 
there  is  a  chief  of  all  the  Indians  who  reigns  in 
splendor  and  pomp,  and  that  his  reign  is  one  of 
wisdom  and  equity,  and  would  last  forever.  They 
believed  that  at  the  gate  of  their  elysium  a  porter 
was  in  constant  attendance,  who  received  all  good, 
brave  Indians,  and  welcomed  them  to  immense 
hunting-grounds  and  all  manner  of  sensual  pleas 
ures  ;  that  if  one  sought  admittance  there  without  a 
bow  and  hunting  implements,  he  was  to  subsist  as 
best  he  could,  for  no  provision  was  to  be  made  for 
him  after  leaving  his  tribe.  Many  were  the  ques 
tions  they  asked  me  after  they  had  ascertained 
what  I  believed  concerning  the  nature  of  the 
heaven  of  which  I  spoke,  and  the  employments 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOIIAVE  INDIANS.         219 

there.  But  generally  they  would  wind  up  the  con 
versation  with  ridicule  and  mockings.  When  they 
saw  me  weep  or  in  trouble  they  would  sometimes 
say :  '  Why  don't  you  look  up  and  call  your  great 
God  out  of  the  sky,  and  have  him  take  you  up 
there.'  But  under  all  this  I  could  plainly  see  that 
their  questions  were  not  wholly  insincere.  They 
frequently  marveled,  and  occasionally  one  would 
say:  'You  whites  are  a  singular  people;  I  should 
like  to  know  what  you  will  be  when  a  great  many 
moons  have  gone  by?'  Sometimes  they  would  say 
as  did  the  Apaches,  that  we  must  be  fools  for 
believing  that  heaven  was  above  the  sky;  that  if 
it  were  so  the  people  would  drop  down.  One  of 
the  squaws  said  tauntingly  to  me :  '  When  you  go  to 
your  heaven  you  had  better  take  a  strong  piece  of 
bark  and  tie  yourself  up,  or  you  will  be  coming 
down  among  us  again.'  After  the  soldiers  had  de 
parted  they  told  me  plainly  that  my  life  must  pay 
for  the  first  one  that  might  be  slain  during  this 
contest. 

"I  had  but  a  little  before  learned  that  we  were 
not  much  further  from  the  white  settlements  than 
when  among  the  Apaches,  and  had  been  fondly 
hoping  that  as  parties  of  the  tribe  occasionally 
made  excursions  to  the  settlements,  I  might  yet 
make  my  situation  known  and  obtain  relief.  But 
now  I  was  shut  up  to  the  alternatives  of  either 
making  an  immediate  effort  to  escape,  which  would 


220      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

be  sure  to  cost  my  life  if  detected,  or  to  wait  in 
dreadful  suspense  the  bare  probability  of  none  of 
these  soldiers  being  slain,  as  the  only  chance  for 
myself  if  I  remained. 

"  The  report  of  the  strengthening  of  the  Cochopas 
since  their  last  expedition  gave  me  reason  to  fear 
the  worst.  Thus  for  a  long  time,  and  just  after 
having  reached  a  bright  place  (if  such  there  can 
be  in  such  a  situation)  in  my  captivity,  I  was 
thrown  into  the  gloomiest  apprehensions  for  my 
life.  I  could  not  calculate  upon  life;  I  did  not. 

"  For  five  months  not  a  night  did  I  close  my  eyes 
for  a  troubled  sleep,  or  wake  in  the  morning  but  last 
and  first  were  the  thoughts  of  the  slender  thread 
upon  which  my  life  was  hung.  The  faint  prospect 
in  which  I  had  been  indulging,  that  their  plans  of 
increasing  traffic  with  the  Mexicans  and  whites 
might  open  the  doors  for  my  return,  was  now 
nearly  blasted. 

"I  had  been  out  one  fine  day  in  August  several 
miles  gathering  roots  for  the  chief's  family,  and  re 
turning  a  little  before  sunset,  as  I  came  in  sight  of 
the  village  I  saw  an  Indian  at  some  distance  beyond 
the  town  descending  a  hill  to  the  river  from  the 
other  side.  He  was  so  far  away  that  it  was  impossi 
ble  for  me  to  tell  whether  he  was  a  Yuma  or  a 
Mohave.  These  two  tribes  were  on  friendly  terms, 
and  frequent  { criers'  or  news-carriers  passed  between 
them.  I  thought  at  once  of  the  absent  warriors,  and 


THE   APACHE    AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.       221 

of  my  vital  interest  in  the  success  or  failure  of  their 
causeless,  barbarous  crusade.  I  soon  saw  that  he 
was  a  Mohave,  and  tremblingly  believed  that  I 
could  mark  him  as  one  of  the  army. 

"With  trembling  and  fear  I  watch  his  hastened 
though  evidently  wearied  pace.  He  went  down 
into  the  river  and  as  he  rose  again  upon  the  bank 
I  recognized  him.  '  He  is  wearied,'  I  said,  '  and  jogs 
heavily  along  as  though  he  had  become  nearly  ex 
hausted  from  long  travel.  Why  can  he  be  coming  in 
alone?'  Questions  of  this  character  played  across 
my  mind,  and  were  asked  aloud  by  me  ere  I  was 
aware,  each  like  a  pointed  javelin  lashing  and  tor 
menting  my  fears.  'Have  the  rest  all  perished?' 
again  I  exclaimed;  'at  any  rate  the  decisive  hour 
has  come  with  me.' 

"  I  stopped ;  my  approach  to  the  village  had  not 
been  observed.  I  resolved  to  wait  and  seek  to  cover 
one  desperate  effort  to  escape  under  the  first  shades 
of  night.  I  threw  myself  flat  upon  the  ground;  I 
looked  in  every  direction  ;  mountain  chains  were 
strung  around  me  on  every  side  like  bulwarks  of 
adamant,  and  if  trails  led  through  them  I  knew 
them  not.  I  partly  raised  myself  up.  I  saw  that 
Indian  turn  into  a  hut  upon  the  outskirts  of  the 
town.  In  a  few  moments  the  'criers'  were  out 
and  bounding  to  the  river  and  to  the  foot  hills. 
Each  on  his  way  started  others,  and  soon  the  news 
was  flying  as  on  telegraphic  wires.  '  But  what 


222     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMONG 

news?  I  could  but  exclaim.  I  started  up  and  re 
solved  to  hasten  to  our  hut  and  wait  in  silence  the 
full  returns. 

"I  could  imagine  that  I  saw  my  doom  written  in 
the  countenance  of  every  Mohave  I  met.  But  each 
one  maintained  a  surly  reserve  or  turned  upon  me  a 
sarcastic  smile.  A  crowd  was  gathering  fast,  but  not 
one  word  was  let  fall  for  my  ear.  In  total,  awful 
silence  I  looked,  I  watched,  I  guessed,  but  dared  not 
speak.  It  seemed  that  every  one  was  reading  and 
playing  with  my  agitation.  Soon  the  assemblage 
was  convened,  a  fire  was  lighted,  and  'Ohitia'  rose 
up  to  speak ;  I  listened,  and  my  heart  seemed  to  leap 
to  my  mouth  as  he  proceeded  to  state,  in  substance, 
thus :  '  Mohaves  have  triumphed ;  five  prisoners 
taken;  all  on  their  way;  none  of  our  men  killed; 
they  will  be  in  to-morrow !' 

"  Again  one  of  the  blackest  clouds  that  darkened 
the  sky  of  my  Mohave  captivity  broke,  and  the  sun 
shine  of  gladness  and  gratitude  was  upon  my  heart. 
Tears  of  gratitude  ran  freely  down  my  face.  I  buried 
my  face  in  my  hands  and  silently  thanked  God.  I 
sought  a  place  alone,  where  I  might  give  full  vent  to 
my  feelings  of  thanksgiving  to  my  heavenly  Father. 
I  saw  his  goodness,  in  whose  hands  are  the  reins  of 
the  wildest  battle  storm,  and  thanked  him  that  this 
expedition,  so  freighted  with  anxiety,  had  issued  so 
mercifully  to  me. 

"The  next  day  four  more  came  in  with  the  cap- 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       223 

tives,  and  in  a  few  days  all  were  returned,  without 
even  a  scar  to  tell  of  the  danger  they  had  passed. 
The  next  day  after  the  coming  of  the  last  party,  a 
meeting  of  the  whole  tribe  was  called,  and  one  of  the 
most  enthusiastic  rejoicing  seasons  I  ever  witnessed 
among  them  it  was.  It  lasted,  indeed,  for  several 
days.  They  danced,  sung,  shouted,  and  played  their 
corn-stalk  flutes  until  for  very  weariness  they  were 
compelled  to  refrain.  It  was  their  custom  never  to 
eat  salted  meat  for  the  next  moon  after  the  coming 
of  a  captive  among  them.  Hence  our  salt  fish  were 
for  several  days  left  to  an  undisturbed  repose. 

"  Among  the  captives  they  had  stolen  from  the 
unoffending  Cochopas,  and  brought  in  with  them, 
was  a  handsome,  fair  complexioned  young  woman, 
of  about  twenty-five  years  of  age.  She  was  as  beau 
tiful  an  Indian  woman  as  I  have  ever  seen ;  tall, 
graceful,  and  ladylike  in  her  appearance.  She  had 
a  fairer,  lighter  skin  than  the  Mohaves  or  the  other 
Cochopa  captives.  But  I  saw  upon  her  countenance 
and  in  her  eyes  the  traces  of  an  awful  grief.  The 
rest  of  the  captives  appeared  well  and  indifferent 
about  themselves. 

"  This  woman  called  herself  c  Nowereha.'  Her 
language  was  as  foreign  to  the  Mohaves  as  the 
American,  except  to  the  few  soldiers  that  had  been 
among  them.  The  other  captives  were  girls  from 
twelve  to  sixteen  years  old ;  and  while  they  seemed 
to  wear  a  'don't  care'  appearance,  this  Nowereha 


224     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAK  GIEL8  AMONG 

was  perfectly  bowed  down  with  grief.  I  observed 
she  tasted  but  little  food.  She  kept  up  a  constant 
moaning  and  wailing,  except  when  checked  by  the 
threats  of  her  boastful  captors.  I  became  very  much 
interested  in  her,  and  sought  to  learn  the  circum 
stances  under  which  she  had  been  torn  from  her 
home.  Of  her  grief  I  thought  I  knew  something. 
She  tried  to  converse  with  me. 

"  With  much  difficulty  I  learned  of  her  what  had 
happened  since  the  going  of  the  Mohave  warriors 
among  her  tribe,  and  this  fully  explained  her  ex 
treme  melancholy.  Their  town  was  attacked  in  the 
night  by  the  Mohave  warriors,  and  after  a  short 
engagement  the  Cochopas  were  put  to  flight;  the 
Mohaves  hotly  pursued  them.  Nowereha  had  a 
child  about  two  months  old ;  but  after  running  a 
short  distance  her  husband  came  up  with  her,  grasped 
the  child,  and  run  on  before.  This  was  an  act  show 
ing  a  humaneness  that  a  Mohave  warrior  did  not 
possess,  for  he  would  have  compelled  his  wife  to 
carry  the  child,  he  kicking  her  along  before  him. 
She  was  overtaken  and  captured, 

"  For  one  week  Nowereha  wandered  about  the 
village  by  day,  a  perfect  image  of  desperation  and 
despair.  At  times  she  seemed  insane :  she  slept  but 
little  at  night.  The  thieving,  cruel  Mohaves  who 
had  taken  her,  and  were  making  merry  over  her 
griefs,  knew  full  well  the  cause  of  it  all.  They  knew 
that  without  provocation  they  had  robbed  her  of  her 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         225 

child,  and  her  child  of  its  mother.  They  knew  the 
attraction  drawing  her  back  to  her  tribe,  and  they 
watched  her  closely.  But  no  interest  or  concern  did 
they  manifest  save  to  mock  and  torment  her. 

"  Early  one  morning  it  was  noised  through  the 
village  that  Kowereha  was  missing.  I  had  observed 
her  the  day  before,  when  the  chief's  daughter  gave 
her  some  corn,  to  take  part  of  the  same,  after  grind 
ing  the  rest,  to  make  a  cake  and  hide  it  in  her  dress. 
When  these  captives  were  brought  in,  they  were 
assigned  different  places  through  the  valley  at  which 
to  stop.  Search  was  made  to  see  if  she  had  not 
sought  the  abiding-place  of  some  of  her  fellow- 
captives.  This  caused  some  delay,  which  I  was  glad 
to  see,  though  I  dared  not  express  my  true  feelings. 

"  When  it  was  ascertained  that  she  had  probably 
undertaken  to  return,  every  path  and  every  space 
dividing  the  immediate  trails  was  searched,  to  find 
if  possible  some  trace  to  guide  a  band  of  pursuers. 
A  large  number  were  stationed  in  different  parts  of 
the  valley,  and  the  most  vigilant  watch  was  kept 
during  the  night,  while  others  started  in  quest  of  her 
upon  the  way  they  supposed  she  had  taken  to  go 
back.  When  I  saw  a  day  and  night  pass  in  these 
fruitless  attempts,  I  began  to  hope  for  the  safety  of 
the  fugitive.  I  had  seen  enough  of  her  to  know  that 
she  was  resolved  and  of  unconquerable  determina 
tion.  Some  conjectured  that  she  had  been  betrayed 
away;  others  that  she  had  drowned  herself,  and 


226    CAPTIVITY  or  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

others  that  she  had  taken  to  the  river  and  swam 
away.  They  finally  concluded  that  she  had  killed 
herself,  and  gave  up  the  search,  vowing  that  if  she 
had  fled  they  would  yet  have  her  and  be  avenged. 

"  Just  before  night,  several  days  after  this,  a  Yuma 
Indian  came  suddenly  into  camp,  driving  this  Co- 
chopa  captive.  She  was  the  most  distressed-looking 
being  imaginable  when  she  returned.  Her  hair 
disheveled,  her  few  old  clothes  torn,  (they  were 
woolen  clothes,)  her  eyes  swollen,  and  every  feature 
of  her  noble  countenance  distorted. 

"'Criers'  were  kept  constantly  on  the  way  be 
tween  the  Mohaves  and  Yumas,  bearing  news  from 
tribe  to  tribe.  These  messengers  were  their  news- 
carriers  and  sentinels.  Frequently  two  criers  were 
employed,  (sometimes  more,)  one  from  each  tribe. 
These  would  have  their  meeting-stations.  At  these 
stations  these  criers  would  meet  with  promptness, 
and  by  word  of  mouth  each  would  deposit  his  store 
of  news  with  his  fellow-expressman,  and  then  each 
would  return  to  his  own  tribe  with  the  news.  When 
the  news  was  important,  or  was  of  a  warning  charac 
ter,  as  in  time  of  war,  they  would  not  wait  for  the 
fleet  foot  of  the  '  runner,'  but  had  their  signal  fires 
well  understood,  which  would  telegraph  the  news 
hundreds  of  miles  in  a  few  hours.  One  of  these 
Yuma  criers,  about  four  days  after  the  disappearance 
of  Nowereha,  was  coming  to  his  station  on  the  road 
connecting  these  two  tribes,  when  he  spied  a  wTomau 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       22*7 

under  a  shelf  of  the  rock  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river.  He  immediately  plunged  into  the  stream  and 
went  to  her.  He  knew  the  tribe  to  which  she 
belonged,  and  that  the  Mohaves  had  been  making 
war  upon  them.  He  immediately  started  back  with 
her  to  the  Mohave  village.  It  was  a  law  to  which 
they  punctually  lived,  to  return  all  fleeing  fugitives 
or  captives  of  a  friendly  tribe. 

"  It  seemed  that  she  had  concealed  that  portion 
of  the  corn  meal  she  did  not  bake,  with  a  view  of 
undertaking  to  escape. 

"  When  she  went  out  that  night  she  plunged  im 
mediately  into  the  river  to  prevent  them  from  track 
ing  her.  She  swam  several  miles  that  night,  and 
then  hid  herself  in  a  willow  wood;  thinking  that 
they  would  be  in  close  pursuit,  she  resolved  to  re 
main  there  until  they  should  give  up  hunting  for  her. 
Here  she  remained  nearly  two  days,  and  her  pur 
suers  were  very  near  her  several  times.  She  then 
started,  and  swam  where  the  river  was  not  too  rapid 
and  shallow,  when  she  would  out  and  bound  over  the 
rocks.  In  this  way,  traveling  only  in  the  night,  she 
had  gone  near  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles.  She 
was,  as  she  supposed,  safely  hid  in  a  cave,  waiting 
the  return  of  night,  when  the  Yuma  found  her. 

"  On  her  return  another  noisy  meeting  was  called, 
and  they  spent  the  night  in  one  of  their  victory 
dances.  They  would  dance  around  her,  shout  in  her 

ears,  spit  in  her  face,  and  show  their  threats  of  a 

15 


228     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMONG 

murderous  design,  assuring  her  that  they  would  soon 
have  her  where  she  would  give  them  no  more  trouble 
by  running  away. 

"  The  next  morning  a  post  was  firmly  placed  in 
the  ground,  and  about  eight  feet  from  the  ground  a 
cross-beam  was  attached.  They  then  drove  large, 
rough  wooden  spikes  through  the  palms  of  poor 
E"owereha's  hands,  and  by  these  they  lifted  her 
to  the  cross  and  drove  the  spikes  into  the  soft  wood 
of  the  beam,  extending  her  hands  as  far  as  they 
could.  They  then,  with  pieces  of  bark  stuck  with 
thorns,  tied  her  head  firmly  back  to  the  upright  post, 
drove  spikes  through  her  ankles,  and  for  a  time  left 
her  in  this  condition. 

"They  soon  returned,  and  placing  me  with  their 
Cochopa  captives  near  the  sufferer,  bid  us  keep  our 
eyes  upon  her  until  she  died.  This  they  did,  as  they 
afterward  said,  to  exhibit  to  me  what  I  might  expect 
if  they  should  catch  me  attempting  to  escape.  They 
then  commenced  running  round  Nowereha  in  regular 
circles,  hallooing,  stamping,  and  taunting  like  so 
many  demons,  in  the  most  wild  and  frenzied  manner. 
After  a  little  while  several  of  them  supplied  them 
selves  with  bows  and  arrows,  arid  at  every  circlet 
would  hurl  one  of  these  poisoned  instruments  of 
death  into  her  quivering  flesh.  Occasionally  she 
would  cry  aloud,  and  in  the  most  pitiful  manner. 
This  awakened  from  that  mocking,  heartless  crowd 
the  most  deafening  yells. 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAYE  INDIANS.        229 


HOEEID    DEATH   OF    THE    INDIAN   CAPTIVE. 

"  She  hung  in  this  dreadful  condition  for  over  two 
hours  ere  I  was  certain  she  was  dead,  all  the  while 
bleeding  and  sighing,  her  body  mangled  in  the  most 
shocking  manner.  When  she  would  cry  aloud  they 
would  stuff  rags  in  her  mouth,  and  thus  silence  her. 
When  they  were  quite  sure  she  was  dead,  and  that 
they  could  no  longer  inflict  pain  upon  her,  they  took 
her  body  to  a  funeral  pile  and  burned  it. 

"  I  had  before  this  thought,  since  -I  had  come  to 
know  of  the  vicinity  of  the  whites,  that  I  would  get 


280     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  0  ATM  AX  GIRLS  AMONG 

some  knowledge  of  the  way  to  their  abodes  by  means 
of  the  occasional  visits  the  Mohaves  made  to  them, 
and  make  my  escape.  But  this  scene  discouraged 
me,  however,  and  each  day  I  found  myself,  not  with 
out  hope  it  is  true,  but  settling  down  into  such  con 
tentment  as  I  could  with  my  lot.  For  the  next 
eighteen  months  during  which  I  was  witness  to  their 
conduct,  these  Mohaves  took  more  care  and  exercised 
more  forethought  in  the  matter  of  their  food.  They 
did  not  suffer,  and  seemed  to  determine  not  to  suffer 
the  return  of  a  season  like  1852. 

"I  saw  but  little  reason  to  expect  anything  else 
than  the  spending  of  my  years  among  them,  and  I 
had  no  anxiety  that  they  should  be  many.  I  saw 
around  me  none  but  savages,  and  (dreadful  as  was 
the  thought)  among  whom  I  must  spend  my  days. 
There  were  some  with  whom  I  had  become  inti 
mately  acquainted,  and  from  whom  I  had  received 
humane  and  friendly  treatment,  exhibiting  real  kind 
ness.  I  thought  it  best  now  to  conciliate  the  best 
wishes  of  all,  and  by  every  possible  means  to  avoid 
all  occasions  of  awakening  their  displeasure,  or  en 
kindling  their  unrepentant,  uncontrollable  temper 
and  passions. 

"  There  were  some  few  for  whom  I  began  to  feel  a 
degree  of  attachment.  Every  spot  in  that  valley 
that  had  any  attraction,  or  offered  a  retreat  to  the 
sorrowing  soul,  had  become  familiar,  and  upon 
much  of  its  adjacent  scenery  I  delighted  to  gaze. 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         231 

Every  day  had  its  monotony  of  toil,  and  thus  I 
plodded  on. 

"To  escape  seemed  impossible,  and  to  make  an 
unsuccessful  attempt  would  be  worse  than  death. 
Friends  or  kindred  to  look  after  or  care  for  me,  I  had 
none,  as  I  then  supposed.  I  thought  it  best  to  re 
ceive  my  daily  allotment  with  submission,  and  not 
darken  it  with  a  borrowed  trouble ;  to  merit  and  covet 
the  good-will  of  my  captors,  whether  I  received  it  or 
not.  At  times  the  past,  with  all  its  checkered  scenes, 
would  roll  up  before  me,  but  all  of  it  that  was  most 
deeply  engraven  upon  my  mind  was  that  which  I 
would  be  soonest  to  forget  if  I  could.  Time  seemed 
to  take  a  more  rapid  flight ;  I  hardly  could  wake  up 
to  the  reality  of  so  long  a  captivity  among  savages, 
and  really  imagined  myself  happy  for  short  periods. 

"I  considered  my  age,  my  sex,  my  exposure,  and 
was  again  in  trouble,  though  to  the  honor  of  these 
savages  let  it  be  said,  they  never  offered  the  least 
unchaste  abuse  to  me. 

"  During  the  summer  of  1855  I  was  eye-witness  to 
another  illustration  of  their  superstition,  and  of  its 
implacability  when  appealed  to.  The  Mohaves  had 
but  a  simple  system  or  theory  of  medicine.  They 
divide  disease  into  spiritual  and  physical,  or  at  least 
they  used  terms  that  conveyed  such  an  impression  as 
this  to  my  mind.  The  latter  they  treated  mainly  to 
an  application  of  their  medical  leaf,  generally  sweat 
ing  the  patient  by  wrapping  him  in  blankets  and 


232    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIRLS    AMONG 

placing  him  over  the  steam  from  these  leaves  warmed 
in  water.  For  the  treatment  of  their  spiritual  or 
more  malignant  diseases  they  have  physicians.  All 
diseases  were  ranked  under  the  latter  class  that  had 
baffled  the  virtue  of  the  medical  leaf,  and  that  were 
considered  dangerous. 

"In  the  summer  of  1855  a  sickness  prevailed  to  a 
considerable  extent,  very  much  resembling  in  its 
workings  the  more  malignant  fevers.  Several  died. 
Members  of  the  families  of  two  of  the  sub-chiefs  were 
sick,  and  their  physicians  were  called.  These  'M.D.s' 
were  above  the  need  of  pills,  arid  plasters,  and  pow 
ders,  and  performed  their  cures  by  manipulations, 
and  all  manner  of  contortions  of  their  own  bodies, 
which  were  performed  with  loud  weeping  and  wail 
ing  of  the  most  extravagant  kind  over  the  sick.  They 
professed  to  be  in  league  and  intimacy  with  the  spir 
its  of  the  departed,  and  from  whose  superior  knowl 
edge  and  position  they  were  guided  in  all  their  cura 
tive  processes.  Two  of  these  were  called  to  the  sick 
bedside  of  the  children  of  these  chiefs.  They  wailed 
and  wrung  their  hands,  and  twisted  themselves  into 
all  manner  of  shapes  over  them  for  some  time,  but  it 
was  in  vain,  the  patients  died.  They  had  lost  several 
patients  lately,  and  already  their  medical  repute  was 
low  in  the  market.  Threats  had  already  followed 
them  from  house  to  house,  as  their  failures  were 
known.  After  the  death  of  these  children  of  rank, 
vengeance  was  sworn  upon  them,  as  they  were  ac- 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.       233 

cused  of  having  bargained  themselves  to  the  evil 
spirits  for  purpose  of  injury  to  the  tribe.  They  knew 
of  their  danger  and  hid  themselves  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river.  For  several  days  search  was  made,  but 
in  vain.  They  had  relatives  and  friends  who  kept 
constant  guard  over  them.  But  such  was  the  feeling 
created  by  the  complainings  of  those  who  had  lost 
children  and  friends  by  their  alleged  conspiracy  with 
devils,  that  the  tribe  demanded  their  lives,  and  the 
chief  gave  orders  for  their  arrest.  But  their  friends 
managed  in  a  sly  way  to  conceal  them  for  some  time, 
though  they  did  not  dare  to  let  their  managery  be 
known  to  the  rest  of  the  tribe.  They  were  found, 
arrested,  and  burned  alive. 

"  The  Mohaves  believe  that  when  their  friends  die 
they  depart  to  a  certain  high  hill  in  the  western 
section  of  their  territory.  That  they  there  pursue 
their  avocation  free  from  the  ills  and  pains  of  their 
present  life,  if  they  had  been  good  and  brave.  But 
they  held  that  all  cowardly  Indians  (and  bravery 
was  the  good  with  them)  were  tormented  with  hard 
ships  and  failures,  sickness  and  defeats.  This  hill  or 
hades,  they  never  dared  visit.  It  was  thronged  with 
thousands  who  were  ready  to  wreak  vengeance  upon 
the  mortal  who  dared  intrude  upon  this  sacred 
ground. 

"Up  to  the  middle  of  February,  1856,  nothing 
occurred  connected  with  my  allotment  that  would  be 
of  interest  to  the  reader.  One  day  as  I  was  grinding 


234       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIKLS  AMONG 

musquite  near  the  door  of  our  dwelling,  a  lad  came 
running  up  to  me  in  haste,  and  said  that  Fran 
cisco,  a  Yuma  crier,  was  on  his  way  to  the  Mohaves, 
and  that  he  was  coining  to  try  and  get  ine  away 
to  the  whites.  The  report  created  a  momentary 
strange  sensation,  but  I  thought  it  probably  was  a 
rumor  gotten  up  by  these  idlers  (as  they  were  wont 
to  do)  merely  to  deceive  and  excite  me  to  their  own 
gratification.  In  a  few  moments,  however,  the  report 
was  circulating  on  good  authority,  and  as  a  reality. 
One  of  the  sub-chiefs  came  in  said  that  a  Yuma  In 
dian,  named  Francisco,  was  now  on  his  way  with 
positive  orders  for  my  immediate  release  and  safe 
return  to  the  fort. 

"  I  knew  that  there  were  white  persons  at  Fort 
Yuma,  but  did  not  know  my  distance  from  the  place. 
I  knew,  too,  that  intercourse  of  some  kind  was  con 
stantly  kept  up  with  the  Yumas  and  the  tribes 
extending  that  way,  and  thought  that  they  had  per 
haps  gained  traces  of  my  situation  by  this  means. 
But  as  yet  I  had  nothing  definite  upon  which  to 
place  confidence. 

"  I  saw  in  a  few  hours  that  full  credit  was  given  to 
the  report  by  the  Mohaves,  for  a  sudden  commotion 
was  created,  and  it  was  enkindling  excitement 
throughout  the  settlement.  The  report  spread  over 
the  valley  with  astonishing  speed,  by  means  of  their 
criers,  and  a  crowd  was  gathering,  and  the  chiefs  and 
principal  men  were  summoned  to  a  council  by  their 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.         235 

head  '  Aespaniola,'  witli  whom  I  stayed.  Aespaniola 
was  a  tall,  strongly  built  man,  active  and  generally 
happy.  He  seemed  to  possess  a  mildness  of  dispo 
sition  and  to  maintain  a  gravity  and  seriousness  in 
deportment  that  was  rare  among  them.  He  ruled  a 
council  (noisy  as  they  sometimes  were)  with  an  ease 
and  authority  such  as  but  few  Indians  can  command, 
if  the  Mohaves  be  a  fair  example.  This  council  pre 
sented  the  appearance  of  an  aimless  convening  of 
wild  maniacs,  more  than  that  of  men,  met  to  deliber 
ate.  I  looked  upon  the  scene  as  a  silent  but  narrowly 
watched  spectator,  but  was  not  permitted  to  be  in 
the  crowd  or  to  hear  what  was  said. 

"  I  knew  the  declared  object  of  the  gathering,  and 
was  the  subject  of  most  anxious  thoughts  as  to  its 
issue  and  results.  I  thought  I  saw  upon  the  part  of 
some  of  them,  a  designed  working  of  themselves  into 
a  mad  phrenzy,  as  if  preparatory  to  some  brutal  deed. 
I  queried  whether  yet  the  report  was  not  false  ;  and 
also  as  to  the  persons  \vho  had  sent  the  reported  mes 
sage,  and  by  whom  it  might  be  conveyed.  I  tried  to 
detect  the  prevailing  feeling  among  the  most  influen 
tial  of  the  council,  but  could  not.  Sometimes  I 
doubted  whether  all  this  excitement  could  have  been 
gotten  up  on  the  mere  question  of  my  return  to  the 
whites. 

"  For  some  time  past  they  had  manifested  but 
little  watchfulness,  care,  or  concern  about  me.  But 
still,  though  I  was  debarred  from  the  council,  I  had 


236    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMOXG 

5 

heard  enough  to  know  that  it  was  only  about  me  and 
the  reported  demand  for  my  liberty. 

"In  the  midst  of  the  uproar  and  confusion  the 
approach  of  Francisco  was  announced.  The  debate 
suddenly  ceased,  and  it  was  a  matter  of  much  inter 
est  to  me  to  be  able  to  mark,  as  I  did,  the  various 
manifestations  by  which  different  ones  received 
him. 

"Some  were  sullen,  and  would  hardly  treat  him 
with  any  cordiality;  others  were  indifferent,  and  with 
a  shake  of  the  head  would  say,  '  Degee,  degee,  ontoa, 
ontoa,'  (I  don't  care  for  the  captive ;)  others  were 
angry,  and  advised  that  he  be  kept  out  of  the  council 
and  driven  back  at  once;  others  were  dignified  and 
serious. 

"  I  saw  Francisco  enter  the  council,  and  I  was  at 
once  seized  by  two  Indians  and  bade  be  off  to 
another  part  of  the  village.  I  found  myself  shut  up 
alone,  unattended,  unprotected.  A  message  as  from 
a  land  of  light  had  suddenly  broken  in  upon  my  dark 
situation,  and  over  it,  and  also  over  my  destiny;  the 
most  intense  excitement  was  prevailing,  more  vehe 
ment,  if  possible,  than  any  before,  and  I  denied  the 
privilege  of  a  plea  or  a  word  to  turn  the  scale  in 
favor  of  my  rights,  my  yearnings,  my  hopes,  or  my 
prayers. 

"I  did  pray  God  then  to  rule  that  council.  My 
life  was  again  hung  up  as  upon  a  single  hair.  The 
most  of  my  dread  for  the  present  was,  that  these  sav- 


THE   APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIAN'S.       237 

ages  of  untamed  passions  would  become  excited 
against  my  release,  and  enraged  that  the  place  of 
my  abode  had  been  found  oiit.  I  feared  and  trem 
bled  for  my  fate,  and  could  not  sleep.  For  three 
days  and  most  of  three  nights  this  noisy  council  con 
tinued  ;  at  times  the  disputants  became  angry  (as 
Francisco  afterward  told  me)  as  rival  opinions  and 
resolutions  fired  their  breasts.  As  yet  I  knew  not 
by  what  means  my  locality  had  become  known,  or 
who  had  sent  the  demand ;  nor  did  I  know  as  yet 
that  anything  more  than  a  word  of  mouth  message 
had  been  sent." 


238      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OAT3IAN  GIRLS  AMONG 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

Lorenzo  Oatman  —  His  Stay  at  Fort  Yuma  —  Goes  with  Dr.  He  wit  to 
San  Francisco  —  His  constant  Misery  on  Account  of  his  Sisters  —  Dark 
Thoughts  —  Cold  Sympathy — Goes  to  the  Mines — Eesolves  to  go  to 
Los  Angeles  to  learn  if  possible  of  his  Sisters  —  His  earnest  but  fruit 
less  Endeavors  —  The  Lesson — Eeport  brought  by  Mr.  Eoulit  of  two 
Captives  among  the  Mohaves  —  The  false  Eeport  of  Mr.  Black  —  Mr. 
Grinell — Petitions  the  Governor — Petitions  Congress  —  The  Eeport  of 
the  Eescue  of  Olive — Mr.  Low. 

WE  now  ask  the  reader  to  trace  with  us  for  a  few 
pages,  a  brief  account  of  the  movements  and  efforts 
(mainly  by  her  brother)  by  which  this  scene  had 
been  waked  up  in  the  captive  home  of  Miss  Olive, 
and  that  had  extended  this  new  opening  for  her 
rescue.  In  chapter  third  we  left  Lorenzo  disabled, 
but  slowly  recovering  from  the  effect  of  his  bruises, 
at  Fort  Yuma.  Of  the  kindness  of  Dr.  Hewit  we 
there  spoke. 

We  here  give  a  narrative  of  the  winding,  care- 
thorned  course  of  the  boy  of  scarce  fifteen  years,  for 
the  next  five  years,  and  the  ceaseless  toil  and  vigi 
lance  he  exercised  to  restore  those  captive  sisters;  as 
we  have  received  the  items  from  his  own  mouth.  It 
is  worth  the  painstaking  that  its  perusal  will  cost, 
showing  as  it  does,  a  true  affection  and  regard  for 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAYE    INDIANS.       239 

his  kindred,  while  the  discretion  and  perseverance  by 
which  his  promptings  were  guided  would  do  honor 
to  the  man  of  thirty. 

He  was  at  Fort  Yuma  three  months,  or  nearly 
that  time.  Dr.  Hewit  continued  to  watch  over  him 
up  to  San  Francisco,  and  until  he  went  East,  and 
then  provided  for  him  a  home.  Besides,  he  did  all 
in  his  power  to  aid  him  in  ascertaining  some  traces 
of  his  sisters.  At  the  fort  Lorenzo  knew  that  his 
sisters  were  captives.  He  entreated  Commander 
Heinsalman,  as  well  as  did  others,  to  make  some 
effort  to  regain  them,  but  it  was  vain  that  he  thus 
pleaded  for  help.  The  officers  and  force  at  the  fort 
were  awake  to  the  reasonableness  and  justice  of  his 
plea.  Some  of  them  anxiously  longed  to  make  a 
thorough  search  for  them.  They  were  not  permitted 
to  carry  the  exposed  family  bread  and  needed 
defense,  but  had  been  out  and  seen  the  spot  where 
they  had  met  a  cruel  death,  and  now  they  longed  to 
follow  the  savage  Apache  to  his  hiding-place,  break 
the  arm  of  the  oppressor,  and  if  possible,  rescue  the 
living  spoil  they  had  taken.  The  short  time  of 
absence  granted  to  Lieutenant  Maury  and  Captain 
Davis,  though  well  filled  up  and  faithfully,  could  not 
reach  the  distant  captives. 

At  times  this  brother  resolved  to  arm  himself, 
and  take  a  pack  of  provisions  and  start,  either  to 
accomplish  their  rescue  or  die  with  them.  But  this 
step  would  have  only  proved  a  short  road  to  one  of 


240     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

their  funeral  piles.  In  June  of  this  year  the  entire 
force  was  removed  from  the  fort  to  San  Diego, 
except  about  a  dozen  men  to  guard  the  ferrymen. 
On  the  26th  of  June,  with  Dr.  Hewit,  Lorenzo  came 
to  San  Francisco.  After  Dr.  Hewit  had  left  for  the 
States  he  began  to  reflect  on  his  loneliness,  and  more 
deeply  than  ever  upon  his  condition  and  that  of  his 
sisters.  Sometimes  he  would  stray  upon  the  hills 
at  night  in  the  rear  of  the  city,  so  racked  with 
despair  and  grief  as  to  determine  upon  taking  his 
own  life,  if  he  could  not  secure  the  rescue  of  the 
captives.  He  found  the  stirring,  throbbing  life  of 
San  Francisco  beating  almost  exclusively  to  the  im 
pulses  of  gold-hunting.  Of  acquaintances  he  had 
none,  nor  did  he  possess  any  desire  to  make  them. 

"  Often,"  he  says,  "  have  I  strolled  out  upon  these 
sidewalks  and  traveled  on  until  I  was  among  the  hills 
to  which  these  streets  conducted  me,  to  the  late  hour 
of  the  night,  stung  by  thinking  and  reflecting  upon 
the  past  and  present  of  our  family  kingdom."  He 
was  given  employment  by  the  firm  in  whose  care  he 
had  been  left  by  Dr.  Hewit.  He  soon  found  that 
tasks  were  assigned  him  in  the  wholesale  establish 
ment  beyond  his  years  and  strength.  He  seriously 
injured  himself  by  lifting,  and  was  compelled  to 
leave.  "  This  I  regretted,"  he  says,  "  for  I  found 
non-employment  a  misery." 

Every  hour  his  mind  was  still  haunted  by  the  one 
all-absorbing  theme !  His  sisters,  his  own  dear  sisters, 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       241 

spirit  of  his  spirit,  and  blood  of  his  blood,  were  in 
captivity.  For  aught  he  knew,  they  were  suffering 
cruelties  and  abuse  worse  than  death  itself,  at  the 
hands  of  their  captors.  He  could  not  engage 
steadily  in  any  employment.  Dark  and  distressing 
thoughts  were  continually  following  him.  No 
wonder  that  he  would  often  break  out  with  utterances 
like  these :  "  O  my  God  !  must  they  there  remain  ? 
Can  there  be  no  method  devised  to  rescue  them  ? 
Are  they  still  alive,  or  have  they  suffered  a  cruel 
death  ?  I  will  know  if  I  live." 

He  had  no  disposition  to  make  acquaintances, 
unless  to  obtain  sympathy  and  help  for  the  one 
attempt  that  from  the  first  he  had  meditated ;  no 
temptation  to  plunge  into  vice  to  drown  his  trouble, 
for  he  only  lived  to  see  them  rescued,  if  yet  alive. 

Thus  three  years  passed  away,  some  of  the  time 
in  the  mines  and  a  portion  of  it  in  the  city.  Fre 
quently  his  sadness  was  noticed,  and  its  cause  kindly 
inquired  after,  upon  which  he  would  give  an  outline 
of  the  circumstances  that  had  led  to  his  present  un- 
cheered  condition.  Some  would  weep  and  manifest 
much  anxiety  to  do  something  to  aid  him  in  the  re 
covery  of  his  lost  kindred ;  others  would  wonder  and 
say  nothing ;  others — strangers  ! — were  sometimes  in 
credulous,  and  scoffed.  He  knew  that  the  route  by 
which  he  had  reached  this  country  was  still  traveled 
by  emigrants,  and  he  resolved  upon  going  to  Los 
Angeles  with  the  hope  that  he  might  there  obtain 


242       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMONG 

some  knowledge  of  the  state  of  things  in  the  region 
of  Fort  Yuma.  Accordingly,  in  October  of  1854,  he 
started  for  that  place,  and  resolved  there  to  stay  until 
he  might  obtain  some  traces  of  his  sisters,  if  it  should 
take  a  whole  lifetime.  He  found  there  those  who 
had  lately  passed  over  the  road,  and  some  who  had 
spent  a  short  time  at  the  stopping-places  so  sadly 
familiar  to  him..  He  inquired,  and  wrote  letters, 
and  used  all  diligence  (as  some  persons  now  in  that 
region,  and  others  in  San  Francisco  can  bear  wit 
ness)  to  accomplish  the  one  end  of  all  his  care.  He 
worked  by  the  month  a  part  of  the  time  to  earn  a 
living,  and  spent  the  remainder  in  devising  and 
setting  on  foot  means  to  explore  the  region  lying 
about  Fort  Yuma  and  beyond.  Thus,  in  the  most 
miserable  state  of  mind,  and  in  utter  fruitlessness  of 
endeavor,  passed  away  almost  a  year.  During  the 
spring  of  1855  several  emigrants  came  by  this  trail. 
Of  them  he  could  learn  nothing,  only  that  they  had 
heard  at  Fort  Yuma  of  the  fate  of  the  "  family  of 
Oatmans." 

One  company  there  was  who  told  him  of  a  Mr. 
Grinell,  a  carpenter  at  Fort  Yuma,  wTho  had  told 
them  that  he  knew  of  the  massacre  of  the  Oatman 
family,  and  of  the  captivity  of  the  girls,  and  that  he 
intended  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  recover  them.  He 
said  that  their  brother,  who  was  left  for  dead,  was 
now  alive,  and  at  Los  Angeles ;  that  a  letter  had  been 
received  at  the  fort  from  him  concerning  his  sisters, 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       243 

and  that  he  should  exert  himself  to  find  them  out 
and  rescue  them.  This  Mr.  Grinell  also  stated  that 
he  had  come  to  Fort  Yuma  in  1853,  and  had  been 
making  inquiries  of  the  Yumas  ever  since  concerning 
these  captive  girls.  Beyond  this,  no  ray  of  light 
broke  upon  the  thickening  gloom  of  that  despairing 
brother.  He  tried  to  raise  companions  to  attend  him 
in  the  pursuit  of  them  to  the  mountains.  At  one 
time  names  were  registered,  and  all  preparations 
made  by  a  large  company  of  volunteers,  who  were 
going  out  for  this  purpose,  but  a  trivial  circumstance 
broke  up  the  anticipated  expedition  and  frustrated 
the  whole  plan.  And  at  other  times  other  kindred 
plans  were  laid,  and  well-nigh  matured,  but  some 
unforeseen  occasion  for  postponement  or  abandon 
ment  would  suddenly  come  up.  He  found  friends, 
and  friends  to  the  cherished  ambition  of  his  heart, 
in  whom  flowed  the  currents  of  a  true  and  positive 
sympathy,  and  who  were  ready  to  peril  life  in  assist 
ing  him  in  the  consummation  of  his  life-object. 
And  often  he  found  this  concealed  under  the  rough 
est  garb,  while  sometimes  smooth  words  and  a 
polished  exterior  proffered  no  means  of  help  be 
yond  mere  appearance. 

He  says:  "I  learned,  amid  the  harassings  of  that 
year  two  things :  1.  That  men  did  not  come  across 
the  plains  to  hunt  captives  among  the  Indians ; 
2.  That  a  true  sympathy  is  oftenest  found  among 

those    who    have    themselves    also    suffered."     He 

10 


244      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

found  that  to  engage  an  ally  in  an  undertaking 
dictated  by  pity  for  suffering  friends,  one  must  go 
among  those  who  have  felt  the  pang  of  kindred  ills. 
Often,  when  he  thought  all  was  ready  to  start  with  an 
engaged  party  to  scour  the  Apache  country,  did  he 
find  some  trifling  excuse  called  in  to  cover  a  retreat 
from  an  undertaking  with  which  these  subjects  of  a 
"  show  sympathy  "  had  no  real  interest  from  the  first. 
Thus  he  came  to  learn  human  nature,  but  was  not 
discouraged.  Could  we  turn  upon  these  pages  the 
full  tide  of  the  heart-yearnings  and  questionings  that 
struggled  in  that  young  man's  heart,  by  daylight,  by 
twilight,  by  moonlight,  as  he  strolled  (as  often  he 
did)  for  reflection  upon  old  ocean's  shore,  on  the 
sandy  beach,  in  the  wood,  it  might  cause  the  heart 
of  the  reader  to  give  heed  to  the  tales  of  true  grief 
that  daily  strew  his  way,  and  kindle  a  just  contempt 
for  a  mere  artificial  sympathy. 

The  year  1855  found  him  undaunted,  still  pressing 
on  to  the  dictates  of  duty  to  his  beloved  sisters. 
Every  failure  and  mishap  but  kindled  his  zeal  anew. 
Parties  of  men  organized  late  in  1855  to  hunt  gold  on 
the  Mohave  River,  about  one  hundred  miles  from 
San  Bernardino.  He  joined  several  of  these,  with 
the  promise  from  men  among  them  that  they  would 
turn  their  excursion  into  a  hunt  for  his  kindred. 
Once  he  succeeded  in  getting  as  far  as,  and  even 
beyond  (though  further  north)  Fort  Yuma.  But 
still  he  could  not  prevail  upon  a  sufficient  number 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.        245 

to  go  as  far  as  the  Apache  country  to  make  it  safe  to 
venture.  Many  would  say  that  his  sisters  were  dead, 
and  it  was  useless  to  hunt  them.  He  joined  survey 
ing  parties  with  this  same  one  object  in  view.  In 
1855  a  force  equal  to  the  one  that  was  there  in  1851 
was  again  at  Fort  Yuma,  and  several  of  the  same 
officers  and  men.  The  place  of  Commander  Hein- 
salman  had  been  filled  by  another  man.  In  De 
cember,  1855,  a  party  of  five  men  resolved  to  join 
Mr.  Oatman  and  search  for  his  sisters  until  some 
definite  knowledge  of  them  might  be  obtained.  They 
spent  several  weeks  south  and  west  of  Fort  Yuma, 
and  had  returned  to  San  Bernardino  to  re-supply 
themselves  with  provisions  for  a  trip  further  north. 

While  at  this  place  Lorenzo  received  a  letter  from 
a  friend  residing  at  the  Monte,  and  stating  that  a  Mr. 
Rowlit  had  just  come  in  across  the  plains;  that  he 
spent  some  time  at  Fort  Yuma,  and  there  learned 
from  the  officers  that,  through  the  Yuma  Indians, 
Mr.  Grinell  had  gathered  intimations  of  the  fact  of 
there  being  two  white  girls  among  the  Mohaves,  and 
that  these  Yum  as  had  stated  that  they  were  a  part 
of  a  family  who  had  been  attacked,  and  some  of 
them  murdered,  in  1851,  by  the  Apaches.  That  the 
Apaches  had  since  sold  these  girls  to  the  Mohaves. 
"This  letter,"  says  Lorenzo,  "I  wet  with  my  tears. 
I  thought  of  that  little  Mary  Ann,  of  the  image  that 
my  last  look  into  her  face  had  left,  and  then  of 
Olive.  I  began  to  reckon  up  their  present  age,  and 


246       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIKLS  AMONG 

the  years  of  dark  captivity  that  had  passed  over 
them.  Can  they  yet  be  alive?  May  I  yet  see 
them  ?  Will  God  help  me  ?" 

Lorenzo  reached  the  Monte,  after  traveling  all 
night,  the  next  day  about  seven  A.  M.  He  saw  Mr. 
Row!  it,  and  found  the  contents  of  the  letter  corro 
borated  by  him.  He  prepared  a  statement  of  the 
facts,  and  sent  them  to  the  "Los  Angeles  Star." 
These  the  editor  published,  kindly  accompanying 
them  by  some  well-timed  and  stirring  remarks.  This 
awakened  an  interest  that  the  community  had  not  felt 
before.  "While  this  was  yet  alive  in  the  hearts  and 
mouths  of  the  people,  a  Mr.  Black  came  into  town, 
just  from  the  East,  by  way  of  Fort  Yuma.  He 
stated  that  two  girls  were  among  the  Mohaves,  and 
that  the  chief  had  offered  them  to  the  officers  at  the 
fort  for  a  mere  nominal  price,  but  that  Commander 
Burke  had  refused  to  make  the  purchase.  Of  this 
statement  Lorenzo  knew  nothing  until  he  had  seen  it 
in  the  "  Star."  This  threw  a  shade  upon  his  mind, 
and  gave  him  to  think  less  of  poor  humanity  than 
ever  before.  He  found  that  but  few  placed  any  re 
liance  upon  the  report.  Mr.  Black  was  well  known 
in  that  vicinity,  and  those  who  knew  him  best  were 
disposed  to  suspend  judgment  until  the  statement 
should  be  supported  by  other  authority. 

The  editor  of  the  "Star"  had  published  the  report 
with  the  best  intentions,  giving  his  authority.  This 
report  reached  the  fort,  and  created  a  great  deal  of  sen- 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.        247 

sation.  They  sent  the  editor  a  letter  denying  the  truth 
fulness  of  the  report,  and  requesting  him  to  publish 
it,  which  he  did.  Accompanying  the  letter  was  a 
statement  confirming  the  existence  of  a  report  at  the 
fort  of  reliable  intimations  of  the  two  girls  being 
among  the  Mohaves,  but  that  no  offer  had  been  made 
of  delivering  them  up  to  the  whites  on  any  terms. 

During  this  time  Lorenzo  had  drawn  up  a  petition, 
and  obtained  a  large  number  of  signers,  praying  of 
the  Governor  of  California  means  and  men  to  go  and 
rescue  his  captive  sisters.  This  was  sent  to  Governor 
Johnson,  at  Sacramento,  and  the  following  reply  was 
received : 

"  EXECUTIVE  DEPARTMENT, 
"  SACRAMENTO,  CAL.,  Jarfy  29,  1856. 

"  ME.  LOEENZO  D.  OATMAN.  SIE, — A  petition  signed  by  your 
self  and  numerous  residents  of  the  County  of  Los  Angeles  has 
been  presented  to  me,  asking  assistance  of  '  men  and  means '  to 
aid  in  the  recovery  of  your  sister,  a  captive  among  the  Mohave 
tribe  of  Indians.  It  would  afford  me  great  pleasure,  indeed,  to 
render  the  desired  assistance,  were  it  in  my  power  so  to  do. 
But  by  the  constitution  and  laws  of  this  state  I  have  not  the 
authority  conferred  on  me  to  employ  either  'men  or  means'  to 
render  this  needful  assistance;  but  will  be  most  happy  to  co 
operate  in  this  laudable  undertaking  in  any  consistent  way  that 
may  be  presented.  I  would,  however,  suggest  that  through  the 
general  government  the  attention  of  the  Indian  Department 
being  called  to  the  subject,  would  more  likely  crown  with  suc 
cess  such  efforts  as  might  be  necessary  to  employ  in  attempting 
the  rescue  of  the  unfortunate  captive. 

"  Very  respectfully  your  obedient  servant, 

"J,  NEELY  JOHNSON," 


248      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

Accordingly,  and  in  accordance  with  the  above 
suggestion,  a  preamble  stating  the  facts,  and  a  peti 
tion  numerously  signed,  was  drawn  up  and  left  at  the 
office  at  the  Steamer  Landing  to  be  forwarded  to 
"Washington.  "Two  days  after,"  says  Lorenzo,  "I 
had  resigned  myself  to  patient  waiting  for  a  return 
of  that  petition,  and  went  to  work  at  some  distance 
from  the  Monte  in  the  woods."  He  was  still  musing 
upon  the  one  object  of  the  last  five  years'  solicitude. 
A  new  light  had  broken  in  upon  his  anxious  heart. 
He  had  now  some  reliable  information  of  the  prob 
able  existence,  though  in  a  barbarous  captivity,  of 
those  who  were  bound  to  him  by  the  strongest  ties. 

He  was  left  now  to  hope  for  their  rescue,  but  not 
without  painful  fears  lest  something  might  yet  inter 
vene  to  prevent  the  realization  of  his  new  expecta 
tions.  While  thus  engaged,  alone  and  in  the  solitude 
of  his  thoughts,  as  well  as  of  the  wilderness,  a  friend 
rode  up  to  him,  and  without  speaking  handed  him  a 
copy  of  the  "Los  Angeles  Star,"  pointing  at  the 
same  time  to  a  notice  contained  in  it.  He  opened 
it,  and  read  as  follows : 

"An  American  Woman  rescued  from  the  Indians  ! 
— A  woman,  giving  her  name  as  Miss  Olive  Oatman, 
has  been  recently  rescued  from  the  Mohaves,  and  is 
now  at  Fort  Yuma." 

After  getting  this  short  note  he  took  a  horse  and 
went  immediately  to  Los  Angeles.  He  went  to  the 
editor,  and  found  that  a  letter  had  been  received  by 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         249 

him  from  Commander  Burke,  at  Fort  Yuma,  stating 
that  a  young  woman,  calling  herself  "  Olive  Oat- 
man,"  had  been  recently  brought  into  the  fort  by  a 
Yurna  Indian,  who  had  been  rescued  from  the  Mo- 
have  tribe;  also  stating  to  the  editor  that  she  had 
a  brother  who  had  lately  been  in  this  vicinity,  and 
requesting  the  editor  to  give  the  earliest  possible 
notice  to  that  brother  of  the  rescue  of  his  sister. 
Lorenzo  says : 

"  I  requested  him  to  let  me  see  the  letter,  which 
he  did.  When  I  cam-e  to  the  facts  contained  in  it 
concerning  my  sister,  I  could  read  no  further ;  I  was 
completely  overcome.  I  laughed,  I  cried,  I  half 
doubted,  I  believed.  It  did  not  seem  to  be  a  real 
ity.  I  now  thought  I  saw  a  speedy  realization,  in 
part,  of  my  long  cherished  hopes.  I  saw  no  mention 
of  Mary  Ann,  and  at  once  concluded  that  the  first 
report  obtained  by  way  of  Fort  Yuma,  by  Yuma 
Indians,  was  probably  sadly  true,  that  but  one  was 
alive.  Too  well  founded  were  the  fears  I  then  had 
that  poor  Mary  Ann  had  died  among  the  savages, 
either  by  disease  or  cruelty. 

"  I  was  without  money  or  means  to  get  to  the  fort ; 
but  there  were  those  who  from  the  first  had  cherished 
a  deep  and  active  sympathy  with  me,  and  who  were 
ready  to  do  all  in  their  power  to  aid  me  in  my  sor 
row-strewn  efforts  for  enslaved  kindred. 

"  This  same  Mr.  Low  who  had  rode  from  Los 
Angeles  to  me  near  the  Monte,  kindly  told  me  that 


250    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

he  would  assist  me  to  obtain  animals  and  get  them 
ready  for  me,  and  that  he  would  accompany  me  to 
Fort  Yuma." 

Thus  outfitted,  though  not  without  much  trembling 
and  anxiety,  questioning  as  to  the  certainty  and 
reality  of  the  reports,  and  of  the  rescued  person 
really  being  his  sister,  yet  feeling  it  must  ~be  true ; 
with  good  hope  he  and  Mr.  Low  were  away  early  on 
the  bright  morning  of  the  10th  of  March  for  Fort 
Yuma,  a  distance  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles. 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       251 


CHAPTEK  YIL 

Francisco  goes  over  the  Eiver,  and  spends  the  Night  —  Persuades  some 
of  the  Sab-Chiefs  to  apply  again  for  Permission  to  let  Olive  go  free  — 
His  Threats  —  The  Chiefs  return  with  him  —  Secret  Council  —  Another 
General  Council  —  Danger  of  a  Fight  among  themselves — Francisco 
has  a  Letter  from  the  Whites  —  Olive  present  —  Francisco  gains  Per 
mission  to  give  her  the  Letter — Its  Contents  —  Much  alarmed  — 
Speeches  of  the  Indians  —  Advice  to  kill  their  Captive  —  Determine  to 
release  her — Daughter  of  the  Chief  goes  with  them — Their  Journey  — 
At  Fort  Yuma. 

FOE  a  long  time  Olive  had  been  apprised  of  tlie  fact 
that  intercourse  had  been  kept  up  between  the  Mo- 
haves  and  the  whites,  as  articles  had  been  brought 
in,  from  time  to  time,  that  she  knew  must  have  been 
obtained  from  white  settlements,  either  by  plunder 
or  purchase.  These  were  brought  in  by  small  par 
ties,  one  of  whom  would  frequently  be  absent  several 
days  or  weeks  at  a  time. 

She  saw  in  these  the  evidences  that  she  was  within 
reach  still  of  the  race  to  which  she  belonged;  and 
often  would  gaze  with  interest  and  curiosity  upon 
some  old  tattered  garment  that  had  been  brought  in, 
until  the  remembrances  and  associatk>ns  it  would 
awaken  woufd  .bring  tears  and  sighs  to  end  the  bitter 
meditations  upon  that  brighter  and  happier  people, 


252      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

now  no  longer  hers.  She  ventured  to  ask  questions 
concerning  these  trips,  and  the  place  where  they 
found  the  whites ;  but  all  her  anxious  queries  were 
met  by  threats  and  taunts,  or  a  long,  gibberish  dis 
sertation  upon  the  perfidy  of  the  whites,  india-rubber 
stories  upon  the  long  distance  of  the  whites  away,  or 
a  restatement  of  their  malignant  hate  toward  them, 
and  of  their  purpose  to  use  the  knowledge  they  might 
gain  by  these  professed  friendly  visits  to  their  ulti 
mate  overthrow,  by  treachery  and  deceit.  They 
even  professed  to  disbelieve  the  statements  that  had 
so  long  deceived  them  concerning  the  numerical 
strength  of  the  whites,  and  to  believe  that  the  few 
of  them  yet  remaining  could  and  would  be  overcome 
and  extinguished  by  the  combined  power  of  the 
Indian  tribes,  that  at  no  distant  day  would  be 
directed  against  them. 

The  chiefs  daughter,  however,  ventured  to  tell 
Olive,  under  injunction  of  secrecy,  that  some  of  their 
number  knew  well  and  had  frequently  traversed  the 
road  leading  to  white  settlements ;  but  that  it  was  an 
immense  distance,  and  that  none  but  Indians  could 
find  it ;  besides  that  it  was  guarded  by  vigilant  spies 
against  the  incoming  of  any  but  their  own  race. 

It  should  be  kept  in  mind  that  as  yet  Olive  had 
been  forbidden  a  word  with  Francisco.  We  left  the 
narrative  of  Olive,  in  another  chapter,  involved  in 
the  heated  and  angry  debates  of  a  long  and  tedious 
council.  Upon  that  wild  council  she  had  been  wait- 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         253 

ing  in  dreadful  suspense,  not  a  little  mingled  with 
terrible  forebodings  of  her  own  personal  safety.  This 
convention  came  to  a  conclusion  with  a  positive  and 
peremptory  refusal  to  liberate  the  captive ;  and  a 
resolution  to  send  Francisco  away,  under  injunction 
not  again,  under  penalty  of  torture,  to  revisit  their 
camp.  Francisco,  on  the  same  night,  departed  to  the 
other  side  of  the  river ;  the  chiefs  and  sub-chiefs  dis 
persed,  and  Olive  was  left  to  her  own  melancholy 
musings  over  the  probable  result. 

She  now  began  to  regret  that  anything  had  been 
said  or  done  about  her  rescue.  She  was  in  darkness 
as  to  the  effect  that  all  this  new  excitement  upon  her 
stay  among  them  might  have,  after  it  should  become 
a  matter  of  sober  deliberation  by  the  Mohaves  alone. 
She  saw  and  heard  enough,  directly  and  indirectly,  to 
know  that  they  were  set  upon  not  letting  her  go  free. 
She  began  to  fear  for  her  life,  especially  as  she  saw 
the  marked  changes  in  the  conduct  of  the  Indians 
toward  her.  The  wife  of  the  chief  seemed  to  feel 
kind  still  toward  her;  but  yet  she  plainly  evinced 
that  the  doings  of  the  last  few  days  had  compelled 
her  to  disguise  her  real  feelings.  The  chief  was 
changed  from  a  pleasant  don't-care  spectator  of 
Olive's  situation,  to  a  sullen,  haughty,  overbearing 
tyrant  and  oppressor. 

Olive  was  now  shut  up  to  a  newly  enkindled  hate, 
which  sought  opportunities  to  fume  its  wrath  against 
her.  She  now  regarded  all  efforts  for  her  rescue  as 


254      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS 

having  reached  a  final  and  abrupt  close.  But  still 
she  could  not  be  ignorant,  concealed  and  reserved  as 
they  were  in  all  their  mutual  consultations,  of  the 
fact  that  some  dreadful  fear  for  themselves  was 
galling  and  tormenting  them.  Expressions  that  she 
well  understood,  and  conveying  their  dread  of  the 
whites,  and  fear  that  they  might  execute  the  threats 
brought  by  Francisco,  constantly  escaped  them,  and 
came  to  the  ears  of  the  agitated  subject  and  victim 
of  their  new  rage. 

Francisco  spent  the  night  upon  which  the  council 
closed  across  the  river.  He  there  plied  every  argu 
ment 'and  stratagem  that  his  cunning  mind  could 
devise  to  persuade  the  principal  men  on  that  side  of 
the  Colorado  to  recede  from  the  resolution  they  had 
that  day  reached.  He  employed  the  whole  night  in 
setting  before  them  troubles  that  these  rash  resolu 
tions  would  bring  upon  them,  and  to  convince  them 
that  it  was  for  their  sakes  alone  that  he  desired  to 
bear  the  captive  to  the  fort  with  him. 

He  had  resolved  in  his  own  mind  not  to  leave 
without  her,  as  she  afterward  learned ;  and,  on  the 
failure  of  all  other  means,  to  risk  his  life  in  a  bold 
attempt  to  steal  her  away  under  darkness  of»night. 
But  in  the  morning  he  made  preparations  for  leaving, 
(he  really  intended  to  go  back  to  the  village,)  when 
the  magnates  and  councilmen,  among  whom  he  had 
tarried  for  the  night,  came  to  him,  and  prevailed 
upon  him  to  go  back  with  them,  promising  him  that 


THE   APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       255 

they  had  now  determined  to  do  all  in  their  power  to 
persuade  the  chief  and  tribe  to  yield  to  his  demand, 
and  to  let  the  captive  go;  fearing  for  the  result  to 
themselves  of  the  contrary  determination  already 
reached. 

About  noon  of  the  next  day  Olive  saw  Francisco, 
with  a  large  number  of  Mohaves,  come  into  the 
village.  It  was  not  without  much  fear  and  alarm 
that  she  saw  this,  though  such  had  been  the  intense 
anxiety  about  her  situation,  and  the  possibility  of 
escape  that  the  last  few  days  had  enkindled,  she  felt 
willing  to  have  a  final  conclusion  now  formed, 
whether  it  should  be  her  death  or  release. 

To  live  much  longer  there,  she  now  thought  she 
plainly  saw  would  be  impossible ;  as  she  could  only 
expect  to  be  sold  or  barbarously  dispatched,  after  all 
that  had  passed  upon  the  question  of  her  release. 
Besides  this  she  felt  that  with  the  knowledge  she 
had  now  gained  of  the  nearness  and  feeling  of  the 
whites,  it  would  be  worse  than  death  to  be  doomed 
to  the  miseries  of  her  captivity,  almost  in  sight  of  the 
privileges  of  her  native  land.  And  hence,  though 
the  reappearance  of  Francisco  was  an  occasion  for 
new  tumult,  and  her  own  agitation  intense,  she  felt 
comforted  in  the  prospect  it  opened  of  ending  the 
period  of  her  present  living  death. 

"When  Francisco  returned  I  was  out  gathering 
ottileka,  (a  small  ground-nut  of  the  size  of  the  hazel- 
nut,)  and  had  utterly  abandoned  the  hope  of  being 


256    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

released,  as  the  council  had  broken  up  with  an  utter 
refusal  to  let  me  go.  Had  I  known  all  that  had 
transpired  I  should  have  felt  much  worse  than  as  it 
was.  I  learned  from  Francisco  since,  that  the  In 
dians  had  resolved  (those  who  were  friendly  to  my 
going)  that  for  fear  that  the  whites  would  come  to 
rescue  me,  they  would  kill  me  as  soon  as  it  was  de 
cided  I  should  not  go. 

"I  had  not  as  yet  seen  the  letter  that  Francisco 
brought  to  me.  I  plainly  saw  a  change  in  the  con 
duct  of  the  Indians  to  me  since  the  close  of  the  recent 
agitation.  What  it  foretold  I  could  not  even  conjec 
ture.  But  I  saw  enough  before  swinging  my  basket 
that  morning  upon  my  back  to  go  out  digging 
ottileka,  to  convince  me  that  the  wrath  of  many  of 
them  was  aroused.  I  struggled  to  suppress  any  emo 
tion  I  felt,  while  my  anxious  heart  was  beating  over 
possible  dreaded  results  of  this  kind  attempt  to  rescue 
me,  which  I  thought  I  saw  were  to  be  of  a  very  dif 
ferent  character  from  those  intended." 

The  returning  company  came  immediately  to  the 
house  of  the  chief.  At  first  the  chief  refused  to  re 
ceive  them.  After  a  short  secret  council  with  some 
members  of  his  cabinet,  he  yielded ;  the  other  chiefs 
were  called,  and  with  Francisco  they  were  again 
packed  in  council.  The  criers  were  again  hurried 
forth,  and  the  tribe  was  again  convened. 

At  this  council  Olive  was  permitted  to  remain. 
The  speaking  was  conducted  with  a  great  deal  of 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       259 

confusion,  which  the  chief  found  it  difficult  to  pre 
vent  ;  speakers  were  frequently  interrupted,  and  at 
limes  there  was  a  wild,  uproarious  tumult,  and  a 
heated  temper  and  heated  speech  were  the  order  of 
the  day.  Says  Olive: 

"  It  did  seem  during  that  night,  at  several  stages  of 
the  debate,  that  there  was  no  way  of  preventing  a 
general  fight  among  them.  Speeches  were  made, 
which,  judging  from  their  gestures  and  motions,  as 
well  as  from  what  I  could  understand  in  their  heat 
and  rapidity,  were  full  of  the  most  impassioned  elo 
quence. 

"I  found  that  they  had  told  Francisco  that  I  was  not 
an  American,  that  I  was  from  a  race  of  people  much 
like  the  Indians,  living  away  to  the  setting  sun.  They 
had  painted  my  face,  and  feet,  and  hands  of  a  dun, 
dingy  color,  unlike  that  of  any  race  I  ever  saw.  This 
they  told  me  they  did  to  deceive  Francisco ;  and  that 
I  must  not  talk  to  him  in  American.  They  told  me 
to  talk  to  him  in  another  language,  and  to  tell  him 
that  I  was  not  an  American.  They  then  waited  to 
hear  the  result,  expecting  to  hear  my  gibberish 
nonsense,  and  to  witness  the  convincing  effect  upon 
Francisco.  But  I  spoke  to  him  in  broken  English, 
and  told  him  the  truth,  and  also  what  they  had  en 
joined  me  to  do.  He  started  from  his  seat  in  a  per 
fect  rage,  vowing  that  he  would  be  imposed  upon  no 
longer.  He  then  broke  forth  upon  them  with  one  of 

the  most  vehement  addresses  I  ever  heard.     I  felt 

17 


260      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

and  still  feel  an  anxiety  to  know  the  full  contents 
of  that  speech.  Part  of  it  he  gave  me  on  the 
way  to  the  fort.  It  was  full  of  eloquence,  and 
wa:  an  exhibition  of  talent  rarely  found  among  his 
race. 

"  The  Mohave  warriors  threatened  to  take  my  life 
for  disobeying  their  orders.  They  were  doubly  cha- 
griaed  that  their  scheme  had  failed,  and  also  that 
thr'r  dishonest  pretensions  of  my  unwillingness  to  go 
with  him,  and  of  my  not  being  an  American,  had 
been  found  out.  Some  of  them  persisted  still  in  the 
falsehood,  saying  that  I  had  learned  some  American 
fro.ii  living  among  them,  but  that  I  had  told  them 
thsi  I  was  not  of  that  race.  All  this  transpired  after 
Francisco's  return,  and  during  his  second  and  last 
effort  for  my  rescue. 

"  I  narrowly  looked  at  Francisco,  and  soon  found  he 
was  one  whom  I  had  seen  there  before,  and  who  had 
tar  *  led  with  the  chief  about  three  months  previously. 
I  srw  he  held  a  letter  in  his  hand  and  asked  to  let 
me  see  it.  Toward  morning  it  was  handed  me,  and 
Francisco  told  me  it  was  from  the  Americans.  I 
took  it,  and  after  a  little  made  out  the  writing  on  the 
outside. 

•"FEANCISCO,  A  YUMA  INDIAN,  GOING  TO  THE  MOHAVES/ 

*  1  opened  it  with  much  agitation.  All  was  quiet 
as  the  ^rave  around  me.  I  examined  it  for  a  long 
time  ere  I  could  get  the  sense,  having  seen  no  writing 
for  five  years.  It  was  as  follows : 


THE   APACHE   AND   MOHAVE   INDIANS.         261 

"  TEANOISCO,  Yuma  Indian,  bearer  of  this,  goes  to  the  Mohave 
Nation  to  obtain  a  white  woman  there,  named  OLIVIA.  It  is 
desirable  she  should  come  to  this  post,  or  send  her  reasons  why 
she  does  not  wish  to  come.  MAKTIN  BURKE. 

Lieut.  Col.,  Commanding. 

IlEAD-QlIAETEES,  FoKT  YlJMA,   CAL., 

27^  January,  1856.' 

"  They  now  began  to  importune  and  threaten  me 
to  give  them  the  contents  of  the  letter.  I  waited  and 
meditated  for  some  time.  I  did  not  know  whether  it 
was  best  to  give  it  to  them  just  as  it  was.  Up  to  this 
time  I  had  striven  to  manifest  no  anxiety  about  the 
matter.  They  had  questioned  and  teased  with  every 
art,  from  little  children  up  to  men,  to  know  my  feel 
ings,  though  they  should  have  known  them  well  by 
this  time.  I  dared  not  in  the  excitement  express  a 
wish.  Francisco  had  told  them  that  the  whites  knew 
where  I  was,  and  that  they  were  about  arming  a  suf 
ficient  number  to  surround  the  whole  Indian  nations, 
and  that  they  thus  intended  to  destroy  them  all  unless 
they  gave  up  the  last  captive  among  them.  He  told 
them  that  the  men  at  the  fort  would  kill  himself  and  all 
they  could  find  of  them  with  the  Yumas,  if  he  should 
not  bring  her  back.  He  said  it  was  out  of  mercy  to 
his  own  tribe,  and  to  them  that  he  had  come. 

"They  were  still  pressing  me  to  read  them  the 
letter.  I  then  told  them  what  was  in  it,  and  also 
that  the  Americans  would  send  a  large  army  and 
destroy  the  Yumas  and  Mohaves,  with  all  the  Indians 
they  could  find,  unless  I  should  return  with  Fran- 


262       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIKLS  AMONG 

cisco.  I  never  expect  to  address  so  attentive  an 
audience  again  as  I  did  then. 

"  I  found  that  they  had  been  representing  to  Fran 
cisco  that  I  did  not  wish  to  go  to  the  whites.  Aa 
soon  as  they  thought  they  had  the  contents  of  the 
letter,  there  was  the  breaking  out  of  scores  of  voices 
at  once,  and  our  chief  found  it  a  troublesome  meet 
ing  to  preside  over.  Some  advised  that  I  should  bo 
killed,  and  that  Francisco  should  report  that  I  was 
dead.  Others  that  they  at  once  refuse  to  let  me  go, 
and  that  the  whites  could  not  hurt  them.  Others 
were  in  favor  of  letting  me  go  at  once.  And  it  was 
not  until  daylight  that  one  could  judge  which  coun 
sel  would  prevail. 

"  In  all  this  Francisco  seemed  bold,  calm,  and  de 
termined.  He  would  answer  their  questions  and 
objections  with  the  tact  and  cunning  of  a  pure  In 
dian. 

"  It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  my  own  feel 
ings  on  reading  that  letter,  and  during  the  remainder 
of  the  pow-wow.  I  saw  now  a  reality  in  all  that  was 
said  and  done.  There  was  the  handwriting  of  one 
of  my  own  people,  and  the  whole  showed  plainly  that 
my  situation  was  known,  and  that  there  was  a  pur 
pose  to  secure  my  return.  I  sought  to  keep  my 
emotions  to  myself,  for  fear  of  the  effect  it  might 
have  upon  my  doom,  to  express  a  wish  or  desire." 

During  this  time  the  captive  girl  could  only  remain 
in  the  profoundest  and  most  painful  silence,  though 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOIIAVE    INDIANS.        263 

the  one  of  all  the  agitated  crowd  most  interested  in 
the  matter  and  result  of  the  debate.  Daylight  came 
slowly  up  the  east,  finding  the  assembly  still  discuss 
ing  the  life  and  death  question  (for  such  it  really 
was)  that  had  called  them  together. 

Some  time  after  sunrise,  and  after  Francisco  and  the 
captive  had  been  bid  retire,  the  chief  called  them 
again  in,  and  told  them,  with  much  reluctance,  that 
the  decision  had  been  to  let  the  captive  go. 

"At  this,"  says  Olive,  "and  while  yet  in  their 
presence,  I  found  I  could  no  longer  control  my  feel 
ings,  and.  I  burst  into  tears,  no  longer  able  to  deny 
myself  the  pleasure  of  thus  expressing  the  weight  of 
feeling  that  struggled  for  relief  and  utterance  within 
me. 

"  I  found  that  it  had  been  pleaded  against  my  be 
ing  given  up,  that  Francisco  was  suspected  of  simply 
coming  to  get  me  away  from  the  Mohaves  that  I 
might  be  retained  by  the  Yumas.  The  chief  accused 
him  of  this,  and  said  he  believed  it.  This  excited  the 
anger  of  Francisco,  and  he  boldly  told  them  what  he 
thought  of  them,  and  told  them  to  go  with  their  cap 
tive  ;  that  they  would  sorrow  for  it  in  the  end.  When 
it  was  determined  that  I  might  go,  the  chief  said  that 
his  daughter  should  go  and  see  that  I  was  carried  to 
the  whites.  We  ate  our  breakfast,  supplied  ourselves 
with  mushed  musquite,  and  started.  Three  Tuma 
Indians  had  come  with  Francisco,  to  accompany  him 
to  and  from  the  Mohaves ;  his  brother  and  two  cousins. 


264       CAPTIVITY   OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIKLS  AMONG 

"  I  now  began  to  think  of  really  leaving  my  Indian 
home.  Involuntarily  my  eye  strayed  over  that  valley. 
I  gazed  on  every  familiar  object.  The  mountains 
that  stood  about  our  valley  home,  like  sentinels  tall 
and  bold,  their  every  shape,  color,  and  height,  as  fa 
miliar  as  the  door-yard  about  the  dwelling  in  which 
I  had  been  reared. 

"  Again  my  emotions  were  distrusted,  and  I  could 
hardly  believe  that  what  was  passing  was  reality.  c  Is 
it  true,'  I  asked,  c  that  they  have  concluded  to  let  me 
escape?  I  fear  they  will  change  their  mind.  Can  it 
be  that  I  am  to  look  upon  the  white  face  again  ?'  I 
then  felt  like  hastening  as  for  my  life,  ere  they  could 
revoke  their  decision.  Their  looks,  their  motions, 
their  flashing  eyes  reminded  me  that  I  was  not  out 
of  danger.  Some  of  them  came  to  me  and  sillily 
laughed,  as  much  as  to  say :  c  O,  you  feel  very  finely 
now,  don't  you  ?'  Others  stood  and  gazed  upon  me 
with  a  steady,  serious  look,  as  if  taking  more  interest 
in  my  welfare  than  ever  before.  More  than  this  I 
seemed  to  read  in  their  singular  appearance ;  they 
seemed  to  stand  in  wonder  as  to  where  I  could  be 
going.  Some  of  them  seemed  to  feel  a  true  joy  that 
I  was  made  so  happy,  and  they  would  speak  to  me 
to  that  effect. 

"  One  little  incident  took  place  on  the  morning  of 
my  departure,  that  clearly  reflects  the  littleness  and 
meanness  that  inheres  in  the  general  character  of  the 
Indian.  I  had  several  small  strings  of  beads ;  most 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE    ESTDIANS.        265 

of  them  had  been  given  me  for  singing  to  them  when 
requested,  when  they  had  visitors  from  other  tribes. 
I  purposed  at  once  that  I  would  take  these  beads,  to 
gether  with  some  small  pieces  of  blankets  that  I  had 
obtained  at  different  times,  and  was  wearing  upon  my 
person  at  this  time,  to  the  whites  as  remembrancers 
of  the  past ;  but  when  I  was  about  ready  to  start,  the 
son  of  the  chief  came  and  took^all  my  beads,  with 
every  woolen  shred  he  could  find  about  me,  and  qui 
etly  told  me  that  I  could  not  take  them  with  me. 
This,  though  a  comparatively  trifling  matter,  afflicted 
me.  I  found  that  I  prized  those  beads  beyond  their 
real  value ;  especially  one  string  that  had  been  worn 
by  Mary.  I  had  hoped  to  retain  them  while  I  might 
live.  I  then  gathered  up  a  few  small  ground-nuts, 
which  I  had  dug  with  my  own  hands,  and  concealed 
them ;  and  some  of  them  I  still  keep." 

That  same  kind  daughter  of  the  chief  who  had  so 
often  in  suppressed  and  shy  utterances  spoken  the 
word  of  condolence,  and  the  wish  to  see  Olive  sent  to 
her  native  land,  and  had  given  every  possible  evi 
dence  of  a  true  and  unaffected  desire  for  her  welfare, 
she  was  not  sorry  to  learn  was  to  attend  her  upon  the 
long  and  tedious  trip  by  which  her  reunion  with  the 
whites  was  hoped  to  be  reached. 

But  there  was  one  spot  in  that  valley  of  captivity 
that  possessed  a  mournful  attraction  for  the  emanci 
pated  captive.  Near  the  wigwam  where  she  had 
spent  many  hours  in  loneliness,  and  Indian  converse 


266      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIIlLri   AMONG 

with  her  captors,  was  a  mound  that  marked  the  final 
resting-place  of  her  last  deceased  sister.  Gladly 
would  she,  if  it  had  been  in  her  power,  have  gathered 
the  few  moldering  remains  of  that  loved  and  cher 
ished  form,  and  borne  them  away  to  a  resting-place 
on  some  shaded  retreat  in  the  soil  of  her  own  coun 
trymen.  But  this  privilege  was  denied  her,  and  that 
too  while  she  knew  that  immediately  upon  her  exit 
they  would  probably  carry  their  already  made  threats 
of  burning  them  into  execution.  And  who  would 
have  left  such  a  place,  so  enshrined  in  the  heart  as 
that  must  have  been,  without  a  struggle,  though  her 
way  from  it  lay  toward  the  home  of  the  white  man  ? 
That  grave  upon  which  she  had  so  often  knelt,  and 
upon  which  she  had  so  often  shed  the  bitter  tear,  the 
only  place  around  which  affection  lingered,  must  now 
be  abandoned ;  not  to  remain  a  place  for  the  undis 
turbed  repose  of  her  sister's  remains,  but  to  disgorge 
its  precious  trust  in  obedience  to  the  rude,  barbarous 
superstition  that  had  waved  its  custom  at  the  time  of 
her  death.  ^No  wonder  that  she  says :  "  I  went  to  the 
grave  of  Mary  Ann,  and  took  a  last  look  of  the  little 
mound  marking  the  resting-place  of  my  sister  who 
had  come  with  me  to  that  lonely  exile ;  and  now  I 
felt  what  it  was  to  know  she  could  not  go  with  me 
from  it." 

There  had  been  in  the  employ  of  government  at 
Fort  Yuma,  since  1853,  a  Mr.  Grinell,  known,  from  his 
occupation,  by  the  name  of  Carpentero.  He  was  a 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.        267 

man  of  a  large  heart,  and  of  many  excellent  qualities. 
He  was  a  man  who  never  aimed  to  put  on  an  exte 
rior  to  his  conduct  that  could  give  any  deceptive  im 
pression  of  heart  and  character.  Indeed  he  often 
presented  a  roughness  and  uncouthness  which,  how 
ever  repulsive  to  the  stranger,  was  found  neverthe 
less,  on  an  acquaintance,  to  cover  a  noble  nature  of 
large  and  generous  impulses.  A  man  of  diligence 
and  fidelity,  he  merited  and  won  the  confidence  of 
all  who  knew  him.  He  possessed  a  heart  that  could 
enter  into  sympathy  with  the  subjects  of  suffering 
wherever  he  found  them.  Soon  after  coming  to  Fort 
Yuma,  he  had  learned  of  the  fate  of  the  Oatman  fam 
ily,  and  of  the  certainty  of  the  captivity  of  two  of  the 
girls.  With  all  the  eagerness  and  solicitude  that 
could  be  expected  of  a  kinsman,  he  inquired  dili 
gently  into  the  particulars,  and  also  the  reliability  of 
the  current  statements  concerning  these  unfortunate 
captives.  'Nor  did  these  cease  in  a  moment  or  a 
day.  He  kept  up  a  vigilant  outsight,  searching  to 
glean,  if  possible,  something  by  which  to  reach  defi 
nite  knowledge  of  them. 

He  was  friendly  to  the  Yumas,  numbers  of  whom 
were  constantly  about  the  fort.  Of  them  he  inquired 
frequently  and  closely.  Among  those  with  whom  he 
was  most  familiar,  and  who  was  in  most  favor  among 
the  officers  at  the  fort,  was  Francisco.  Carpentero 
had  about  given  up  the  hope  of  accomplishing  what 
he  desired,  when  one  night  Francisco  crept  by  some 


268    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN    GIKLS  AMONG- 

means  through  the  guard,  and  found  his  way  into  the 
tent  of  his  friend,  long  after  he  had  retired. 

Grinell  awoke,  and  in  alarm  drew  his  pistol  and 
demanded  who  was  there.  Francisco  spoke,  and  his 
voice  was  known.  Grinell  asked  him  what  he  could 
be  there  for  at  that  hour  of  the  night.  With  an  air 
of  indifference  he  said  he  had  only  come  in  to  talk  a 
little.  After  a  long  silence  and  some  suspicious 
movements,  he  broke  out  and  said  :  "  Carpentero, 
what  is  this  you  say  so  much  about  two  Americanos 
among  the  Indians  ?" 

"  Said,"  replied  Grinell ;  "  I  said  that  there  are  two 
girls  among  the  Mohaves  or  Apaches,  and  you  know 
it,  and  we  know  that  you  know  it."  Grinell  then  took 
up  a  copy  of  the  Los  Angeles  Star,  and  told  Francisco 
to  listen,  and  he  would  read  him  what  the  Americans 
were  saying  and  thinking  about  it.  He  then  reads, 
giving  the  interpretation  in  Mexican,  (which  language 
Francisco  could  speak  fluently,)  an  article  that  had 
been  gotten  up  and  published  at  the  instance  of  Lo 
renzo,  containing  the  report  brought  in  by  Mr.  Rowlit, 
calling  for  help.  The  article  also  stated  that  a  large 
number  of  men  were  ready  to  undertake  to  rescue  the 
captives  at  once,  if  means  could  be  furnished. 

But  the  quick  and  eager  mind  of  Carpentero  did 
not  suffer  the  article  to  stop  with  what  he  could  find 
in  the  Star  /  keeping  his  eye  still  upon  the  paper,  he 
continued  to  read,  that  if  the  captives  were  not  deliv 
ered  in  so  many  days,  there  would  be  five  millions  of 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         269 

men  thrown  around  the  mountains  inhabited  by  the 
Indians,  and  that  they  would  annihilate  the  last  one 
of  them,  if  they  did  not  give  up  all  the  wrhite  cap 
tives. 

Many  other  things  did  that  Star  tell  at  that  time, 
of  a  like  import,  but  the  which  had  got  into  the 
paper  (if  there  at  all)  without  editor,  type,  or  ink. 

Francisco  listened  with  mouth,  and  ears,  and  eyes. 
After  a  short  silence,  he  said,  (in  Mexican,)  "  I  know 
where  there  is  one  white  girl  among  the  Mohaves; 
there  were  two,  but  one  is  dead." 

At  this  the  generous  heart  of  Carpentero  began  to 
swell,  and  the  object  of  his  anxious,  disinterested 
sympathy  for  the  first  time  began  to  present  itself  as 
a  bright  reality. 

"  When  did  you  find  out  she  was  there  ?"  said  Car 
pentero. 

F.  "  I  have  just  found  it  out  to-night." 

C.  "Did  you  not  know  it  before?" 

F.  "Well,  not  long;  me  just  come  in,  you  know. 
Me  know  now  she  is  there  among  the  Mohaves." 

Carpentero  was  not  yet  fully  satisfied  that  all  was 
right.  There  had  been,  and  still  was,  apprehension 
of  some  trouble  at  the  fort,  from  the  Yumas ;  and 
Carpentero  did  not  know  but  that  some  murderous 
scheme  was  concocted,  and  all  this  was  a  ruse  to  be 
guile  and  deceive  them. 

Carpentero  then  told  Francisco  to  stay  in  his  tent 
for  the  night.  Francisco  then  told  Carpentero  that 


CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMO^G 

if  Commander  Burke  would  give  him  authority,  he 
would  go  and  bring  the  girl  into  the  fort.  That  night 
Carpentero  slept  awake.  Early  in  the  morning  they 
went  to  the  commander.  For  some  time  Commander 
Burke  was  disposed  to  regard  it  as  something  origin 
ated  by  the  cunning  of  Francisco,  and  did  not  believe 
he  would  bring  the  girl  in.  Said  Francisco:  "You 
give  me  four  blankets  and  some  beads,  and  I  will 
bring  her  in  just  twenty  days,  when  the  sun  be 
right  over  here,"  pointing  to  about  forty-five  degrees 
above  the  western  horizon. 

Carpentero  begged  the  captain  to  place  all  that  it 
would  cost  for  the  outfit  to  his  own  account,  and 
let  him  go.  The  captain  consented,  a  letter  was 
written,  and  the  Yuma,  with  a  brother  and  two 
others,  started.  This  was  about  the  eighth  of  Feb 
ruary,  1856. 

Several  days  passed,  and  the  men  about  the  fort 
thought  they  had  Carpentero  in  a  place  where  it 
would  do  to  remind  him  of  "his  trusty  Francisco" 
And  thus  they  did,  asking  him  if  he  "  did  not  think 
his  blankets  and  beads  had  sold  cheap  ?"  if  he  "  had 
not  better  send  another  Indian  after  the  blankets?" 
etc.,  with  other  questions  indicating  their  own  dis 
trust  of  the  whole  movement. 

On  the  twentieth  day,  about  noon,  three  Yuma  In 
dians,  living  some  distance  from  the  fort,  came  to  the 
fort  and  asked  permission  to  see  "  a  man  by  the  name 
of  Carpentero."  They  were  shown  his  tent,  and  went 


THE   APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.        271 

in  and  made  themselves  known,  saying,  "  Carpentero, 
Francisco  is  coming." 

"Has  he  the  girl  with  him?"  quickly  asked  the 
agitated  Carpentero,  bounding  to  his  feet. 

They  laughed  sillily,  saying,  "  Francisco  will  come 
here  when  the  sun  be  right  over  there,"  pointing  in 
the  direction  marked  by  Francisco. 

With  eager  eyes  Carpentero  stood  gazing  for  some 
time,  when  three  Indians  and  two  females,  dressed  in 
closely  woven  bark  skirts,  came  down  to  the  ferry  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  At  that  he  bounded 
toward  them,  crying  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "They 
have  come ;  the  captive  girl  is  here  /"  All  about  the 
fort  were  soon  apprised  that  it  was  even  so,  and  soon 
they  were  either  running  to  meet  and  welcome  the 
captive,  or  were  gazing  with  eagerness  to  know  if 
this  strange  report  could  be  true. 

Olive,  with  her  characteristic  modesty,  was  unwill 
ing  to  appear  in  her  bark  attire  and  her  poor  shabby 
dress  among  the  whites,  eager  as  she  was  to  catch 
again  a  glimpse  of  their  countenances,  one  of  whom 
she  had  not  seen  for  years.  As  soon  as  this  was 
made  known,  a  noble-hearted  woman,  the  wife  of 
one  of  the  officers  and  the  lady  to  whose  kind  hos 
pitalities  she  was  afterward  indebted  for  every  kind 
ness  that  could  minister  to  her  comfort  the  few  weeks 
she  tarried  there,  sent  her  a  dress  and  clothing  of  the 
best  she  had. 

Amid  long  enthusiastic  cheering  and  the  booming 


272     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIELS  AMONG 

of  cannon,  Miss  Olive  was  presented  to  the  com 
mander  of  the  fort  by  Francisco.  Every  one  seemed 
to  partake  of  the  joy  and  enthusiasm  that  prevailed. 
Those  who  had  been  the  most  skeptical  of  the  inten 
tions  of  Francisco,  were  glad  to  find  their  distrust  re 
buked  in  so  agreeable  a  manner.  The  Yumas  gath 
ered  in  large  numbers,  and  seemed  to  partake  in  the 
general  rejoicing,  joining  their  heavy  shrill  voices  in 
the  shout,  and  fairly  making  the  earth  tremble  be 
neath  the  thunder  of  their  cheering. 

Francisco  told  the  captain  he  had  been  compelled 
to  give  more  for  the  captive  than  what  he  had  ob 
tained  of  him;  that  he  had  promised  the  Mohave 
chief  a  horse,  and  that  his  daughter  was  now  present 
to  see  that  this  promise  was  fulfilled.  Also,  that  a 
son  of  the  chief  would  be  in  within  a  few  days  to 
receive  the  horse.  A  good  horse  was  given  him,  and 
each  of  the  kind  officers  at  the  fort  testified  their 
gratitude  to  him,  as  well  as  their  hearty  sympathy 
with  the  long  separated  brother  and  sister,  by  do 
nating  freely  and  liberally  of  their  money  to  make 
up  a  horse  for  Francisco ;  and  he  wras  told  there,  in 
the  presence  of  the  rest  of  his  tribe,  that  he  had  not 
only  performed  an  act  for  which  the  gratitude  of  the 
whites  would  follow  him,  but  one  that  might  proba 
bly  save  his  tribe  and  the  Mohaves  much  trouble  and 
many  lives. 

From  this  Francisco  was  promoted  and  became  a 
"  Tie "  of  his  tribe,  and  with  characteristic  pride 


m 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.        275 

and  haughtiness  of  bearing,  showed  the  capabilities 
of  the  Indian  to  appreciate  honors  and  preferment, 
by  looking  with  disdain  and  contempt  upon  his  peers, 
and  treating  them  thus  in  the  presence  of  the  whites. 

Miss  Olive  was  taken  in  by  a  very  excellent 
family  residing  at  the  fort  at  the  time,  and  every 
kindness  and  tender  regard  bestowed  upon  her  that 
her  generous  host  and  hostess  could  make  minister  to 
her  contentment  and  comfort.  She  had  come  over 
three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  during  the  last  ten 
days ;  frequently  (as  many  as  ten  times)  she  and  her 
guides  were  compelled  to  swim  the  swollen  streams, 
running  and  rushing  to  the  top  of  their  banks  with 
ice-water.  The  kind  daughter  of  the  chief,  with  an 
affection  that  had  increased  with  every  month  and 
year  of  their  association,  showed  more  concern  and 
eagerness  for  the  wellbeing  of  "  Olivia "  than  her 
own.  She  would  carry,  through  the  long  and  toil 
some  day,  the  roll  of  blankets  that  they  shared 
together  during  the  night,  and  seemed  very  much 
concerned  and  anxious  lest  something  might  yet  pre 
vent  her  safe  arrival  at  the  place  of  destination. 

Olive  was  soon  apprised  of  the  place  of  residence  of 
her  brother,  whom  she  had  so  long  regarded  as  dead, 
and  also  of  his  untiring  efforts,  during  the  last  few 
years,  for  the  rescue  of  his  sister. 

"  It  was  some  time,"  she  says,  "  before  I  could 
realize  that  he  was  yet  alive.  The  last  time  I  saw 
him  he  was  dragged  in  his  own  blood  to  the  rocks 


27G       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

upon  the  brow  of  that  precipice  ;  I  thought  I  knew 
him  to  be  dead."  And  it  was  not  until  all  the  circum 
stances  of  his  escape  were  detailed  to  her  that  she 
could  fully  credit  his  rescue  and  preservation. 
Lorenzo  and  his  trading  companion,  Mr.  Low,  were 
about  ten  days  in  reaching  the  fort ;  each  step  and 
hour  of  that  long  and  dangerous  journey  his  mind 
was  haunted  by  the  fear  that  the  rescued  girl  might 
not  be  his  sister.  But  he  had  not  been  long  at  the 
fort  ere  his  trembling  heart  was  made  glad  by 
the  attestation  of  his  own  eyes  to  the  reality  He 
saw  that  it  was  his  own  sister  (the  same,  though 
now  grown  and  much  changed)  who,  with  Mary 
Ann,  had  poured  their  bitter  cries  upon  his  bewil 
dered  senses  five  years  before,  as  they  were  hurried 
away  by  the  unheeding  Apaches,  leaving  him  for 
dead  with  the  rest  of  the  family. 

Language  was  not  made  to  give  utterance  to  the 
feelings  that  rise,  and  swell,  and  throb  through  the 
human  bosom  upon  such  a  meeting  as  this.  For  five 
years  they  had  not  looked  in  each  other's  eyes ;  the 
last  image  of  that  brother  pressed  upon  the  eye  and 
memory  of  his  affectionate  sister,  was  one  that  could 
only  make  any  reference  to  it  in  her  mind  one  of 
painful,  torturing  horror.  She  had  seen  him  when 
(as  she  supposed)  life  had  departed,  dragged  in  the 
most  inhuman  manner  to  one  side ;  one  of  a  wrhole 
family  who  had  been  butchered  before  her  eyes. 
The  last  remembrance  of  that  sister  by  her  brother, 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.         277 

was  of  her  waitings  and  heart-rending  sighs  over  the 
massacre  of  the  rest  of  her  family,  and  her  consign 
ment  to  a  barbarous  captivity  or  torturing  death. 
She  was  grown  to  womanhood  ;  she  was  changed, 
but  despite  the  written  traces  of  her  outdoor  life  and 
barbarous  treatment  left  upon  her  appearance  and 
person,  he  could  read  the  assuring  evidences  of  her 
family  identity.  They  met,  they  wept,  they  em 
braced  each  other  in  the  tenderest  manner ;  heart 
throbbed  to  heart,  and  pulse  beat  to  pulse ;  but  for 
nearly  one  hour  not  one  word  could  either  speak  ! 

The  past !  the  checkered  past !  with  its  bright  and 
its  dark,  its  sorrow  and  its  joy,  rested  upon  that  hour 
of  speechless  joy.  The  season  of  bright  childhood, 
their  mutual  toils  and  anxieties  of  nearly  one  year, 
while  traveling  over  that  gloomy  way ;  that  horrid 
night  of  massacre,  with  its  wailing  and  praying, 
mingled  with  fiendish  whooping  and  yelling,  remem 
bered  in  connection  with  its  rude  separation ;  the 
five  years  of  tears,  loneliness,  and  captivity  among 
savages,  through  which  she  had  grown  up  to  woman 
hood  ;  the  same  period  of  his  captivity  to  the  domin 
ion  of  a  harassing  anxiety  and  solicitude,  through 
which  he  had  grown  up  to  manhood,  all  pressed  upon 
the  time  of  that  meeting,  to  choke  utterance,  and  stir 
the  soul  with  emotions  that  could  only  pour  them 
selves  out  in  tears  and  sighs. 

A   large  company    of   Americans,    Indians,    and 

Mexicans,  were  present  and  witnessed  the  meeting 

18 


278     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIRLS  AMONG 

of  Lorenzo  and  his  sister.  Some  of  them  are  now  in 
the  city  of  San  Francisco,  to  testify  that  not  an 
unmoved  heart  nor  a  dry  eye  witnessed  it.  Even  the 
rude  and  untutored  Indian,  raised  his  brawny  hand  to 
wipe  away  the  unbidden  tear  that  stole  upon  his 
cheek  as  he  stood  speechless  and  wonder-struck ! 
When  the  feelings  became  controllable,  and  words 
came  to  their  relief,  they  dwelt  and  discoursed 
for  hours  upon  the  gloomy  and  pain-written  past. 
In  a  few  days  they  were  safe  at  the  Monte*,  and  were 
there  met  by  a  cousin  from  Kogue  Eiver  Yalley, 
Oregon,  who  had  heard  of  the  rescue  of  Olive,  and 
had  come  to  take  her  to  his  own  home. 

At  the  Monte*  they  were  visited  during  a  stay  of 
two  weeks,  in  waiting  for  the  steamer,  by  large 
numbers  of  people,  who  bestowed  upon  the  rescued 
captive  all  possible  manifestations  of  interest  in  her 
welfare,  and  hearty  rejoicing  at  her  escape  from  the 
night  of  prison-life  and  suffering  so  long  endured. 

She  was  taken  to  Jackson  County,  Oregon,  where 
she  has  been  since,  and  is  still  residing  there. 

*#*  Since  writing  the  above  Miss  Oatman,  with 
her  brother,  have  spent  about  six  months  at  school  in 
Santa  Clara  Yalley,  California.  On  the  fifth  day  of 
March,  1858,  they  left  San  Francisco,  in  company 
with  the  writer  and  his  family,  on  the  steamship 
Golden  Age,  for  New- York,  where  they  arrived  on 
the  26th  of  the  same  month. 


LORENZO     OATMAN. 


THE    APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.       279 


CONCLUSION. 

How  strange  the  life  of  these  savages.  Of  their 
past  history  how  little  is  known;  and  there  is  an 
utter  destitution  of  any  reliable  data  upon  which  to 
conjecture  even  concerning  it.  By  some  they  are 
considered  the  descendants  of  a  people  who  were 
refined  and  enlightened.  That  a  period  of  civiliza 
tion,  and  of  some  progress  in  the  arts,  preceded  the 
discovery  of  this  continent  by  Columbus,  there  can 
be  but  Jittle  doubt.  The  evidences  of  this  are  to  be 
seen  in  the  relics  of  buried  cities  and  towns,  that 
have  been  found  deep  under  ground  in  numerous 
places. 

But  whether  the  people  of  whom  we  have  these 
traces  extended  to  the  Pacific  slope,  and  to  the  south 
west,  we  know  not.  This  much  we  do  know :  there 
are  large  tracts  of  country  now  occupied  by  large 
and  numerous  tribes  of  the  red  race,  living  in  all  the 
filth  and  degradation  of  an  unmitigated  heathenism, 
and  without  any  settled  system  of  laws  or  social 
regulations. 

If  they  have  any  system  of  government,  it  is  that  of 
an  absolute  monarchy.  The  chief  of  each  tribe  is 
the  sole  head  and  sovereign  iii  all  matters  that  affect 


280    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  O  ATM  AN  GIRLS 

the   wellbeing  of  the  same,  even   to   the  life   and 
death  of  its  members. 

They  are  human,  but  live  like  brutes.  They  seem 
totally  destitute  of  all  those  noble  and  generous 
traits  of  life  which  distinguish  and  honor  civilized 
people.  In  indolence  and  supineness  they  seem  con 
tent  to  pass  their  days,  without  ambition,  save  of  war 
and  conquest ;  they  live  the  mere  creatures  of  passion, 
blind  and  callous  to  all  those  ennobling  aims  and 
purposes  that  are  the  true  and  pleasing  inspiration  of 
rational  existence.  In  their  social  state,  the  more 
they  are  studied  the  more  do  they  become  an  object 
of  disgust  and  loathing. 

They  manifest  but  little  affection  for  one  another, 
only  when  death  has  separated  them,  and  then  they 
show  the  deep  inhumanity  and  abject  heathenism  to 
which  they  have  sunk  by  the  horrid  rites  that  pre 
vail  in  the  disposing  of  their  infirm  kindred  and 
their  dead.  They  burn  the  one  and  the  other  with 
equal  impunity  and  satisfaction. 

The  marriage  relation  among  them  is  not  hon 
ored,  scarcely  observed.  The  least  affront  justifies 
the  husband  in  casting  off  his  chosen  wife,  and  even 
in  taking  her  life.  Rapine  and  lust  prey  upon 
them  at  home  ;  and  war  is  fast  wasting  them 
abroad.  They  regard  the  whites  as  enemies  from 
all  antiquity,  and  any  real  injury  they  can  do  them 
is  considered  a  virtue,  while  the  taking  of  their 
lives  (especially  of  males)  is  an  act  which  is  sure  to 


THE    APACHE   AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.        281 

crown    the    name   of  the   perpetrator   with   eternal 
honors. 

"With  all  their  boasting  and  professed  contempt  for 
the  whites,  and  with  all  their  bright  traditions  and 
prophecies,  according  to  which  their  day  of  triumph 
and  power  is  near  at  hand,  yet  they  are  not  without 
premonitions  of  a  sad  and  fatal  destiny.  They  are 
generally  dejected  and  cast  down ;  the  tone  of  their 
every-day  life,  as  well  as  sometimes  actual  say 
ings,  indicating  a  pressing  fear  and  harassing  fore 
boding. 

Some  of  the  females  would,  after  hours  of  conver 
sation  with  Olive,  upon  the  character,  customs,  and 
prosperity  of  the  whites,  plainly,  but  with  injunctions 
of  secrecy,  tell  her  that  they  lived  in  constant  fear ; 
and  it  was  not  unfrequent  that  some  disaffected  mem 
ber  of  the  tribe  would  threaten  to  leave  his  mount 
ain  home  and  go  to  live  with  the  whites.  It  is  not 
to  be  understood  that  this  was  the  prevailing  state  of 
feeling  among  them. 

Most  of  them  are  sunk  in  an  ignorance  that  forbids 
any  aspiration  or  ambition  to  reach  or  fire  their 
natures ;  an  ignorance  that  knows  no  higher  mode  of 
life  than  theirs,  and  that  looks  with  jealousy  upon 
every  nation  and  people,  save  the  burrowing  tribes 
that  skulk  and  crawl  among  these  mountains  and 
ravines. 

But  fate  seems  descending  upon  them,  if  not  in 
"sudden,"  yet  in  certain  night.  They  are  waning. 


282       CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMONO 

Remnants  of  them  will  no  doubt  long  survive ;  but 
the  masses  of  them  seem  fated  to  a  speedy  decay. 
Since  this  narrative  was  first  written,  a  very  severe 
battle,  lasting  several  weeks,  has  taken  place  between 
the  allied  Mohaves  and  Yumas  on  the  one  side,  and 
the  Cochopas  on  the  other.  The  former  lost  over 
three  hundred  warriors;  the  latter  but  few,  less  than 
threescore.  Among  the  slain  was  the  noble  Fran 
cisco.  It  is  rumored  at  Fort  Yuma,  that  during  the 
engagement  the  allied  tribes  were  informed  by  their 
oracles  that  their  ill-success  was  owing  to  Francisco ; 
that  he  must  be  slain  for  his  friendship  to  the  whites  ; 
then  victory  would  crown  their  struggles ;  and  that, 
in  obedience  to  this  superstition,  he  was  slain  by  the 
hands  of  his  own  tribe. 

Had  Olive  been  among  them  during  this  unsuc 
cessful  war,  her  life  would  have  been  oifered  up  on 
the  return  of  the  defeated  warriors ;  and  no  doubt 
there  were  then  many  among  them  who  attributed 
their  defeat  to  the  conciliation  on  their  part  by  which 
she  was  surrendered  to  her  own  people.  Such  is  the 
Indian  of  the  South  and  Southwest. 

We  have  tried  to  give  the  reader  a  correct, 
though  brief  history  of  the  singular  and  strange 
fate  of  that  unfortunate  family.  If  there  is  one  who 
shall  be  disposed  to  regard  the  reality  as  overdrawn, 
we  have  only  to  say  that  every  fact  has  been  dic 
tated  by  word  of  mouth  from  the  surviving  members 
of  that  once  happy  family,  who  have,  by  a  myste- 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE   INDIANS.        283 

rious  Providence,  after  suffering  a  prolonged  and 
unrelieved  woe  of  five  years,  been  rescued  and  again 
restored  to  the  blessings  of  a  civilized  and  sympa 
thizing  society. 

Most  of  the  preceding  pages  have  been  written  in 
the  first  person.  This  method  was  adopted  for  the 
sake  of  brevity,  as  also  to  give,  as  near  as  language 
may  do  it,  a  faithful  record  of  the  feelings  and  spirit 
with  which  the  distresses  and  cruel  treatment  of  the 
few  years  over  which  these  pages  run,  was  met, 
braved,  endured,  and  triumphed  over.  The  record 
of  the  five  years  of  captivity  entered  upon  by  a 
timid,  inexperienced  girl  of  fourteen  years,  and 
during  which,  associated  with  naught  but  savage 
life,  she  grew  up  to  womanhood,  presents  one  of 
heroism,  self-possession,  and  patience,  that  might  do 
honor  to  one  of  maturity  and  years.  Much  of  that 
dreadful  period  is  unwritten,  and  will  remain  forever 
unwritten. 

We  have  confidence  that  every  reader  will  share 
with  us  the  feelings  of  gratitude  to  Almighty  God  for 
the  blessings  of  civilization,  and  a  superior  social 
life,  with  which  we  cease  to  pen  this  record  of  the 
degradation,  the  barbarity,  the  superstition,  the 
squalidness,  that  curse  the  uncounted  thousands 
who  people  the  caverns  and  wilds  that  divide  th^ 
Eastern  from  the  Western  inheritance  of  our  mother 
republic. 

But  the  unpierced  heathenism  that  thus  stretches 


284    CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS  AMONG 

its  wing  of  night  upon  these  swarming  mountains 
and  vales,  is  not  long  to  have  a  dominion  so  wild, 
nor  possess  victims  so  numerous.  Its  territory  is 
already  begirt  with  the  light  of  a  higher  life ;  and 
now  the  foot-fall  of  the  pioneering,  brave  Anglo- 
Saxon  is  heard  upon  the  heel  of  the  savage,  and 
breaks  the  silence  along  his  winding  trail.  Already 
the  song  and  shout  of  civilization  wakes  echoes 
long  and  prophetic  upon  those  mountain  rocks, 
that  have  for  centuries  hemmed  in  an  un visited 
savageness. 

Until  his  death  Francisco,  by  whose  vigilance  the 
place  of  Olive's  captivity  and  suffering  was  ascer 
tained,  and  who  dared  to  bargain  for  her  release  and 
restoration  ere  he  had  changed  a  word  with  her  cap 
tors  about  it,  was  hunted  by  his  own  and  other  tribes 
for  guiding  the  white  man  to  the  hiding-places  of 
those  whose  ignorance  will  not  suffer  them  to  let  go 
their  filth  and  superstition,  and  who  regard  the 
whole  transaction  as  the  opening  of  the  door  to  the 
greedy,  aggressive,  white  race.  The  cry  of  gold, 
like  that  which  formed  and  matured  a  state  upon 
this  far-off  coast  in  a  few  years,  is  heard  along 
ravines  that  have  been  so  long  exclusively  theirs, 
and  companies  of  gold  hunters,  led  on  by  faint  but 
unerring  "  prospects,"  are  confidently  seeking  rich 
leads  of  the  precious  ore  near  their  long  isolated 
wigwams. 

The  march  of  American  civilization,  if  unhampered 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.         285 

by  the  weakness  and  corruption  of  its  own  happy 
subjects,  will  yet,  and  soon,  break  upon  the  barbarity 
of  these  numerous  tribes,  and  either  elevate  them  to 
the  unappreciated  blessings  of  a  superior  state,  or 
wipe  them  into  oblivion,  and  give  their  long-unde 
veloped  territory  to  another. 

Perhaps  when  the  intricate  and  complicated  events 
that  mark  and  pave  the  way  to  this  state  of  things, 
shall  be  pondered  by  the  curious  and  retrospective 
eye  of  those  who  shall  rejoice  in  its  possession,  these 
comparatively  insignificant  ones  spread  out  for  the 
reader  upon  these  pages,  will  be  found  to  form  a 
part.  May  Heaven  guide  the  anxious-freighted 
future  to  the  greatest  good  of  the  abject  heathen, 
and  save  those  into  whose  hands  are  committed  such 
openings  and  privileges  for  beneficent  doing,  from 
the  perversion  of  their  blessings  and  mission. 

"  Honor  to  whom  honor  is  due."  With  all  the 
degradation  in  which  these  untamed  hordes  are 
steeped,  there  are — strange  as  it  may  seem — some 
traits  and  phases  in  their  conduct  which,  on  com 
parison  with  those  of  some  who  call  themselves 
civilized,  ought  to  crimson  their  cheeks  with  a 
blush.  While  feuds  have  been  kindled,  and  lives 
have  been  lost — innocent  lives — by  the  intrusion  of 
the  white  man  upon  the  domestic  relations  of  Indian 
families ;  while  decency  and  chastity  have  been  out 
raged,  and  the  Indian  female,  in  some  instances, 
stolen  from  her  spouse  and  husband  that  she  really 


286      CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIELS  AMONG 

loved ;  let  it  be  written,  written  if  possible  so  as  to 
be  read  when  an  inscrutable  but  unerring  Provi 
dence  shall  exact  "to  the  uttermost  farthing"  for 
every  deed  of  cruelty  and  lust  perpetrated  by  a 
superior  race  upon  an  inferior  one ;  written  to  stand 
out  before  those  whose  duty  and  position  it  shall  be, 
within  a  few  years,  in  the  American  Council  of 
State,  to  deliberate  and  legislate  upon  the  best 
method  to  dispose  of  these  fast  waning  tribes ;  that 
one  of  our  own  race,  in  tender  years,  committed 
wholly  to  their  power,  passed  a  five-years'  captivity 
among  these  savages  without  falling  under  those  baser 
propensities  which  rave,  and  rage,  and  consume,  with 
the  fury  and  fatality  of  a  pestilence,  among  them 
selves. 

It  is  true  that  their  uncultivated  and  untempered 
traditional  superstitions  allow  them  to  mark  in  the 
white  man  an  enemy  that  has  preyed  upon  their 
rights  from  antiquity,  and  to  exact  of  him,  when 
thrown  into  their  power,  cruelties  that  kindle  just 
horror  in  the  breast  of  the  refined  and  the  civilized. 
It  is  true  that  the  more  intelligent,  and  the  large 
majority,  deplore  the  poor  representation  of  our  peo 
ple  that  has  been  given  to  these  wild  men  by  cer 
tain  "  lewd  fellows  of  the  baser  sort,"  who  are 
undistinguished  by  them  from  our  race  as  a  whole. 
But  they  are  set  down  to  our  account  in  a  more 
infallible  record  than  any  of  mere  human  writ ;  and 
delicate  and  terrible  is  the  responsibility  with  which 


THE    APACHE    AND    MOHAVE    INDIANS.       287 

they  have  clothed  the  action  of  the  American  race 
amid  the  startling  and  important  exigences  that  must 
roll  upon  its  pathway  for  the  next  few  years. 

Who  that  looks  at  the  superstition,  the  mangled, 
fragmentary,  and  distorted  traditions  that  form  the 
only  tribunal  of  appeal  for  the  little  wreck  of  moral 
sense  they  have  left  them — superstitions  that  hold 
them  as  with  the  grasp  of  omnipotence ;  who  that 
looks  upon  the  self-consuming  workings  of  the  cor 
ruptions  that  breed  in  the  hotbed  of  ignorance,  can 
be  so  hardened  that  his  heart  has  no  sigh  to  heave,  no 
groan  to  utter  over  a  social,  moral,  and  political  deso 
lation  that  ought  to  appeal  to  our  commiseration 
rather  than  put  a  torch  to  our  slumbering  vengeance. 

It  is  true  that  this  coast  and  the  Eastern  states 
have  now  their  scores  of  lonely  wanderers,  mournful 
and  sorrow-stricken  mourners,  over  whose  sky  has  been 
cast  a  mantle  of  gloom  that  will  stretch  to  their  tombs 
for  the  loss  of  those  of  their  kindred  who  sleep  in  the 
dust,  or  bleach  upon  the  sand-plots  trodden  by  these 
roaming  heathen ;  kindred  who  have  in  their  inno 
cence  fallen  by  cruelty.  But  there  is  a  voice  coming 
up  from  these  scattered,  unmonumented  resting-places 
of  their  dead ;  and  it  pleads,  pleads  with  the  potency 
and  unerringness  of  those  pleadings  from  "under 
the  ground"  of  ancient  date,  and  of  the  fact  and 
effect  of  which  we  have  a  guiding  record. 

"Who  that  casts  his  eye  over  the  vast  territory  that 
lies  between  the  Columbia  River  and  Acapulco,  with 


288     CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIKLS  AMONG 

the  Rocky  Range  for  its  eastern  bulwark,  a  territory 
abounding  with  rich  verdure-clad  vales  and  pasturage 
hill-sides,  and  looks  to  the  time,  not  distant,  when 
over  it  all  shall  be  spread  the  wing  of  the  eagle,  when 
the  music  of  civilization,  of  the  arts,  of  the  sciences, 
of  the  mechanism,  of  the  religion  of  our  favored 
race,  shall  roll  along  its  winding  rivers  and  over  its 
beautiful  slopes,  but  has  one  prayer  to  offer  to  the 
God  of  his  fathers,  that  the  same  wisdom  craved 
and  received  by  them  to  plant  his  civil  light-house 
on  a  wilderness  shore,  may  still  guide  us  on  to  a 
glorious,  a  happy,  and  a  useful  destiny. 

The  following  lines  were  written  by  some  person, 
unknown  to  the  author,  residing  in  Maysville,  Cali 
fornia.  They  were  first  published  in  a  daily  paper, 
soon  after  the  first  edition  was  issued.  They  are 
here  inserted  as  expressing,  not  what  one  merely, 
but  what  many  felt  who  read  this  narrative  in  that 
state,  and  who  have  become  personally  acquainted 
with  Miss  Oatman.  Many  have  been  the  assurances 
of  sympathy  and  affection  that,  by  letter  and  in  per 
son,  have  been  in  kindred  and  equally  fervent  strains 
poured  upon  the  ear  and  heart  of  the  once  suffering 
subject  of  this  narrative. 


THE  APACHE  AND  MOHAVE  INDIANS.        289 


STANZAS  TO  OLIVE  OATMAN. 

Fair  Olive !  thy  historian's  pen  declines 

Portraying  what  thy  feelings  once  have  been, 
Because  the  language  of  the  world  confines 

Expression,  giving  only  half  we  mean ; 
No  reaching  from  what  we  have  felt  or  seen : 

And  it  is  well.     How  useless  'tis  to  gild 
Refined  gold,  or  paint  the  lily's  sheen! 
But  we  can  weep  when  all  the  heart  is  fill'd 
And  feel  in  thought,  beyond  where  pen  or  words  are  skill'd. 

In  moonlight  we  can  fancy  that  one  grave, 

Resting  amid  the  mountains  bleak  and  bare, 
Although  no  willow's  swinging  pendants  wave 

Above  the  little  captive  sleeping  there, 
"With  thee  beside  her  wrapp'd  in  voiceless  prayer ; 

AVe  guess  thy  anguish,  feel  thy  heart's  deep  woe, 
And  list  for  moans  upon  the  midnight  air, 
As  tears  of  sympathy  in  silence  flow 
For  her  whose  unmark'd  head  is  lying  calm  and  low. 

For  in  the  bosom  of  the  wilderness 
Imagination  paints  a  fearful  wild 
With  two  young  children  bow'd  in  deep  distress, 

A  simple  maiden  and  a  little  child, 
Begirt  with  savages  in  circles  fill'd, 

Who  round  them  shout  in  triumph  o'er  the  deed 
That  laid  their  kindred  on  the  desert  piled 
An  undistinguished  mass,  in  death  to  bleed, 
And  left  them  without  hope  in  their  despairing  need. 


290  CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  0  ATM  AN  GIELS. 

In  captive  chains  whole  races  have  been  led, 

But  never  yet  upon  one  heart  did  fall 
Misfortune's  hand  so  heavy.     Thy  young  head 
Has  born  a  nation's  griefs,  its  woes,  and  all 
The  serried  sorrows  which  earth's  histories  call 

The  hand  of  God.    Then,  Olive,  bend  thy  knee, 
Morning  and  night,  until  the  funeral  pall 
Hides  thy  fair  face  to  Him  who  watches  thee, 
"Whose  power  once  made  thee  bond,  whose  power  once  set 

thee  free. 

MONTBAB. 

MARYSVILLE,  April  27, 1857. 


THE    END. 


NOTICES  OF  THE  PRESS. 


[The  following  notices  of  this  work  are  selected  from  among 
a  large  number,  all  of  which  speak  in  commendation  of  it  as  a 
tale  of  thrilling  interest.] 

AN  INTERESTING  BOOK. — Our  friend,  Mr.  L.  D.  Oatman,  has  laid  upon 
our  table  a  thrilling  narrative  of  the  captivity  of  his  sisters,  and  of  his 
own  escape  from  the  dreadful  massacre  of  his  family.  The  work  is  com 
piled  hy  the  Eev.  E.  B.  Stratton,  and  in  forcible  description,  purity  of 
style,  and  deep  interest,  surpasses  any  production  of  romance.  It  will  be 
read  with  pleasure  by  many  in  our  valley  to  whom  the  interesting  sub 
jects  of  the  narrative,  Miss  Olive  and  her  brother,  are  personally  known. 
—Table  Rock  Sentinel. 

CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS. — "We  are  under  obligations  to  Eandall 
&  Co.  for  a  copy  of  this  little  work  by  E.  B.  Stratton. 

"  Have  you  read,"  says  a  correspondent,  "the  deeply  pathetic  narrative 
of  the  captivity  of  the  Oatman  girls,  the  miraculous  escapes  of  a  little 
brother,  and  the  massacre  of  the  rest  of  the  family  ?  If  not,  do  so  at 
once,  and  extend  its  circulation  by  noticing  it  hi  your  paper.  The  work, 
which  is  no  fiction,  will  be  profitably  perused  as  a  matter  of  curiosity  and 
information ;  but  hi  opening  up  the  closed  fountains  hi  the  hardened 
hearts  of  our  callous-grown  people,  it  is  calculated  to  have  a  most  happy 
effect.  "Who,  unless  the  last  spark  of  generous  sentiment  and  tender 
emotion  be  extinct  hi  their  natures,  can  get  through  that  little  book  with 
out  feeling  their  eyes  moisten  and  their  bosoms  swell."  Eandall  &  Co. 
have  the  work  for  sale  ;  also  G.  &  0.  Amy. — Marywille  Herald. 

Miss  OLIVE  OATMAN. — The  interesting  narrative  of  the  captivity  of  this 
young  lady  by  the  Apache  Indians,  and  her  long  residence  among  them 
and  the  Mohaves,  so  long  looked  for  by  the  public,  has  made  its  appear- 


2  NOTICES    OF    THE    PRESS. 

ance.  The  book  will  Lave  an  extensive  sale,  being  written  in  an  attractive 
style,  and  disclosing  many  interesting  traits  of  character  in  savage  life 
along  our  southern  border. — San  Jose  Telegraph. 

CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS — LIFE  AMONG  THE  INDIANS. — This  is 
the  subject  of  a  volume  of  two  hundred  and  ninety  pages,  recently  issued 
from  the  press  of  this  city  by  Eev.  E.  B.  Stratton,  to  whom  the  facts  were 
communicated  by  Olive  and  Lorenzo  D.  Oatman,  the  surviving  members 
of  the  family.  The  Oatman  family,  it  will  be  recollected,  were  attacked 
by  the  Apaches  in  1850,  and  the  two  girls,  Olive  and  Mary,  were  carried 
into  captivity.  Mary  died,  but  Olive  was  released  about  a  year  since. 
The  author  claims  for  the  work  no  great  literary  excellence,  but  rests  its 
merits  solely  upon  the  highly  interesting  nature  of  the  facts  presented, 
and  a  strict  adherence  to  truth  throughout  the  narrative.  A  solid  cord 
of  romance  might  be  built  upon  it. — Golden  Era,  San  Francisco. 

CAPTIVITY  OF  THE  OATMAN  GIRLS. — The  above  is  the  partial  title  of  a 
new  California  book  just  issued  from  the  press  of  San  Francisco.  It  is  a 
neat  volume  of  two  hundred  and  ninety  pages,  and  is  a  graphic  descrip 
tion  of  one  of  the  most  horrid  tales  of  massacre,  captivity,  and  death  we 
have  read  for  years.  The  public  have  been  anxiously  waiting  for  this 
book  since  the  announcement  a  few  months  since  that  it  was  in  prepara 
tion.  The  author,  Eev.  B.  B.  Stratton,  has  presented  the  facts  as  he 
received  them  from  Miss  Oatman,  in  a  clear,  attractive  style.  Of  the 
particular  circumstances  of  the  fate  of  the  Oatman  family  most  in  this 
state  are  apprised.  The  book  will  have  a  wide  sale.  Eead  it. — Sacra 
mento  Union 

A  NEW  BOOK. — We  have  just  received  the  book  of  the  "  Captivity  of  the 
Oatman  Girls,"  for  which  the  people  have  been  looking  anxiously  for 
several  weeks.  It  is  a  tale  of  horrors,  and  well  told.  The  reader  will 
rise  from  its  perusal  with  a  feeling  prompting  him  to  seize  the  musket 
and  go  at  once  and  chastise  those  inhuman  wretches  among  whom  Olivs 
has  spent  five  years.  The  American  people  ought  to  go  and  give  them  a 
whipping.  Eead  the  book.  Though  it  is  one  of  horrors,  its  style  and 
truthfulness  attract  to  a  thorough  reading. — Democratic  State  Journal. 


SEYEN   YEARS' 

Street  Preaching  in  San  Francisco, 

EMBRACING 

INCIDENTS  AND  TRIUMPHANT  DEATH  SCENES. 


TESTIMONY     OF    THE     PRESS. 

"  AMONG  the  first  of  our  noble  army  of  occupation  in  California 
was  the  Rev.  William  Taylor.  In  labors  he  has  been  more  abundant, 
and  as  fearless  as  laborious.  His  book,  as  a  book  of  mere  incident 
and  adventure,  possesses  uncommon  interest ;  but  as  a  record  of  mis 
sionary  toil  and  success  its  interest  is  immensely  increased.  The 
sketches  of  personal  character  and  death-bed  scenes  are  thrilling." 
— Ladies'  Repository. 

"  The  observation  and  experience  recorded  abounds  with  the 
most  pleasing  interest,  and  the  scenes  are  described  with  much 
graphic  power  and  felicity." — Baltimore  Sun. 

"  This  is  a  graphic  description  of  the  labors  of  a  missionary 
among  the  most  complex,  and  perhaps  most  wicked,  and  at  the 
same  time  excited  and  active  population  in  the  world.  It  is  a 
very  rich  book,  and  deserves  a  large  sale." — Zion's  Herald. 

"  As  a  religious  history,  it  occupies^  new  department  in  Cali- 
fornian  literature ;  and  its  incidents  and  triumphant  death  scenes 
are  of  the  most  interesting  character." — The  American  Spectator. 

"It  is  a  very  entertaining  volume,  full  of  adventure,  grave  and 
gay,  in  the  streets  of  a  new  city,  and  among  a  peculiar  people." — 
New-York  Observer.  * 


2  STREET    PREACHING    IN   SAN   FRANCISCO. 

"This  work  is  valuable,  not  merely  from  its  very  sincere  and 
sound  religious  spirit,  but  from  the  curious  popular  traits  which 
it  imbodies,  and  the  remarkable  insight  it  affords  into  the  strik 
ing  and  highly  attractive  peculiarities  of  the  Methodist  denomina 
tion.  We  defy  any  student  of  human  nature,  any  man  gifted 
with  a  keen  appreciation  of  remarkable  development  of  character, 
to  read  this  book  without  a  keen  relish.  He  will  find  in  it  many 
singular  developments  of  the  action  of  religious  belief  allied  to 
manners,  customs,  and  habits  all  eminently  worthy  of  study.  The 
straightforward  common  sense  of  the  author,  allied  to  his-  faith, 
has  resulted  in  a  shrewd  enthusiasm,  whose  workings  are  continu 
ally  manifest,  and  which  enforces  our  respect  for  his  earnestness 
and  piety,  as  well  as  affording  rare  materials  for  analysis  and 
reflection.  The  naivete  of  the  author  is  often  pleasant  enough  ;  in 
some  instances  we  find  it  truly  touching." — Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

"  We  like  the  spirit  and  daring  of  the  author  of  this  book.  But 
few  like  him  live  among  men.  With  an  undoubted  piety,  and 
courage  like  a  lion,  he  preached  Christ  at  a  time,  in  San  Fran 
cisco,  when  Satan  reigned  about  as  triumphant  as  he  ever  has 
on  any  other  spot  of  the  cursed  earth.  The  book  will  be  read, 
and  it  will  do  good  wherever  it  is  read." — Buffalo  Ohr.  Advocate. 

"  This  book  is  a  real  contribution  to  the  religious  history  of 
that  country.  For  raciness  of  style  it  is  one  of  the  most  reada 
ble  books  that  has  fallen  into  our  hands." — Pittsburgh  Chr.  Mv. 

"The  state  of  society  which  Mr.  Taylor  describes  is  almost 
anomalous,  and  his  pictures  are  boldly  and  clearly  drawn" — New 
York  Evening  Post. 

Similar  opinions  to  the  foregoing  have  been  given  by  the  West 
ern,  Southern,  and  Richmond  Christian  Advocates,  Christian  Advo 
cate  and  Journal,  National  Magazine,  Methodist  Quarterly  Review, 
Harper's  Magazine,  and  many  others. 


STREET  PREACHING   IX   SAX   FRANCISCO.  3 

The  London  Review  for  April,  1858,  devotes  nearly  four  pages  to  "Seven  Tears' 
Street  Preaching  in  San  Francisco,"  from  which  the  following  is  an  extract: 
"The  appearance  of  Mr.  Taylor's  work  on  street  preaching,  at  a  time  wlu-n  so 
much  attention  is  turned  to  this  subject,  when  parochial  clergymen,  and  even 
bishops,  have  caught  the  mantle  of  Whitefield  and  the  Wesleys,  is  singularly 
opportune.  And  the  book  itself  is  so  thoroughly  good,  so  deeply  interesting,  and  so 
replete  with  wise  counsels  and  examples  of  what  street  preaching  ought  to  be, 
that  we  cannot  but  wish  fur  it  a  wide  circulation.  The  writer  tells  his  story  with 
the  simplicity  and  directness  of  a  child;  and  the  incidents  related  are  of  a  most 
unusual  and  romantic  kind.  Too  much  cannot  be  said  in  praise  of  the  nervous, 
plain,  vigorous  style  of  the  author's  preaching.  For  clearness,  directness,  and 
force,  the  specimens  given  in  this  book  have  never  been  surpassed." — Pp.  99,  100. 


California  Life  Illustrated. 

"  Mr.  Taylor,  as  our  readers  may  see  by  consulting  our  synopsis  of  the  Quarter 
lies,  is  accepted  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  as  well  as  on  the  shores  of  the  Pacific, 
as  a  regular  '  pioneer.'  The  readers  of  his  former  work  will  find  the  interest 
aroused  by  its  pages  amply  sustained  in  this.  Its  pictorial  illustrations  aid  in 
bringing  California  before  us."— Methodist  Quarterly  Review. 

"For  stirring  incidents  in  missionary  life  and  labors,  it  is  equal  to  his  former 
work,  while  a  wider  field  of  observation  furnishes  a  still  more  varied  store  of 
useful  and  curious  information  in  regard  to  California.  It  will  well  repay  the 
reader  for  the  time  he  may  spend  on  its  bright  pages.  The  publishers  have  done 
their  part  well.  The  book  is  12mo.,  in  good  style  of  binding,  and  printed  on  fair 
paper." — Pittsburgh  Advocate. 

"It  is  a  work  of  more  general  interest  than  the  author's  '  Seven  Years'  Street 
Preaching  in  San  Francisco.'  It  enters  more  largely  into  domestic  matters, 
manners,  and  modes  of  living.  Life  in  the  city,  the  country,  '  the  diggings,' 
mining  operations,  the  success  and  failures,  trials,  temptations,  and  crimes,  and 
all  that,  fill  the  book,  and  attract  the  reader  along  its  pages  with  an  increasing 
interest.  It  is  at  once  instructive  and  entertaining." — Richmond  Christian  Ad- 


Rev.  DR.  CROOKS,  of  New-York,  after  a  careful  reading  of  California  Life  Illus 
trated,  recorded  his  judgment  as  follows :  "  This  is  not  a  volume  of  mere  statistics, 
but  a  series  of  pictures  of  the  many  colored  life  ot  the  Golden  State.  The  author 
was  for  seven  years  engaged  as  a  missionary  in  San  Francisco,  and  in  the  dis 
charge  of  his  duties  was  brought  into  contact  with  persons  of  every  class  and 
shade  of  character.  We  know  of  no  work  which  gives  so  clear  an  impression  of 
a  state  of  society  which  is  already  passing  away,  but  must  constitute  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  chapters  in  our  nation's  history.  The  narrative  is  life-like, 
and  incident  and  sketch  follow  in  such  rapid  succession,  that  it  is  impossible  for 
the  reader  to  feel  weary.  This  book,  and  the  author's  'Young  America,'  and 
'  Seven  Years'  Street  Preaching  in  San  Francisco,'  would  make  highly  entertaining 
and  instructive  volumes  for  Sunday-school  libraries.  Thoir  graphically  described 
scenes,  and  fine  moral  tone,  fit  them  admirably  for  the  minds  of  youth." 


4  CALIFORNIA  LIFE  ILLUSTRATED. 

"  Full  of  interesting  and  instructive  information,  abounding  in  striking  incident, 
this  is  a  book  that  everybody  will  be  interested  in  reading.  Indeed  scarcely  any 
thing  can  be  found  that  will  give  a  more  picturesque  and  striking  view  of  life  in 
California." — New-  York  Observer. 

"  Mr.  Taylor  has  recently  published  a  work  entitled  California  Life  Illustrated, 
which  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  books  we  ever  read — full  of  stirring  incident. 
Those  who  wish  to  see  California  life,  without  the  trouble  of  going  thither,  can 
get  a  better  idea,  especially  of  its  religious  aspects,  from  this  and  the  former  book 
of  Mr.  Taylor  on  the  subject,  than  from  any  other  source  conveniently  accessi 
ble." — Editor  of  Christian  Advocate  and  Journal,  N.  Y. 

"  The  influx  of  nations  into  California,  in  response  to  the  startling  intelligence 
that  its  mountains  were  full  of  solid  gold,  opened  up  a  chapter  in  human  history 
that  had  never  before  been  witnessed.  At  first  it  seemed  as  if  '  the  root  of  all 
evil,'  did  indeed  shoot  into  a  baneful  shade,  under  which  none  oT  the  virtues 
could  breathe;  but  soon  Christianity  and  Gospel  missionaries  begun  to  be  seen. 
Among  the  most  active  of  them  was  William  Taylor,  who  now,  on  a  return  to  the 
Atlantic  States,  gives  to  the  world  a^description  of  what  he  saw.  It  is  an  original, 
instructive  book,  full  of  facts  and  good  food  for  thought,  and  as  such  we  heartily 
commend  it." — Ziorfs  Herald. 

"It  is  a  series  of  sketches,  abounding  in  interesting  and  touching  incidents  of 
missionary  life,  dating  with  the  early  history  of  the  country,  and  the  great  gold 
excitement  of  1849,  and  up,  for  several  years,  illustrating,  as  with  the  pencil  of  a 
master  in  his  art,  the  early  phases  of  civil  and  social  life,  as  they  presented  them 
selves,  struggling  for  being  and  influence  amid  the  conflicting  elements  of  gold 
mania,  fostered  by  licentiousness  and  unchecked  by  the  sacred  influence  of  relig 
ion,  family,  and  home ;  containing  a  striking  demonstration  of  the  refining, 
purifying  tendencies  of  female  influence,  rendeo^d  sanctifying,  when  pervaded  by 
religion ;  giving  such  an  insight  into  the  secret  workings  of  the  human  heart  and 
mind  as  will  be  in  vain  sought  for  in  the  books  called  mental  and  moral  philosophy ; 
withdrawing  the  vail  which  ordinarily  screens  the  emotions  of  the  soul,  leaving 
the  patient  student  to  look  calmly  at  the  very  life  pulsations  of  humanity,  and  grow 
wise.  Statistically  the  work  is  of  great  value  to  those  seeking  information  con 
cerning  the  country,  with  a  view  to  investment  or  settlement." — Texas  Advocate. 

"  The  author  of  this  volume  is  favorably  known  to  many  readers  by  his  previous 
work,  in  which  he  relates  the  experience  of  seven  years'  street  preaching  in  San 
Francisco.  He  here  continues  the  inartificial  but  graphic  sketches  which  com 
pose  the  substance  of  this  volume,  and,  by  his  simple  narratives,  gives  a  lively 
illustration  of  the  social  condition  of  California.  During  his  residence  in  that 
state  he  was  devoted  exclusively  to  his  work  as  a  missionary  of  the  Methodist 
Church,  and,  by  his  fearlessness,  zeal,  and  self-denial,  won  the  confidence  of  the 
whole  population.  He  was  frequently  thrown  in  contact  with  gamblers,  chevaliers 
d'  Industrie,  and  adventurers  of  every  description,  but  he  never  shrunk  from  the 
administration  of  faithful  rebuke,  and  in  so  doing  often  won  the  hearts  of  the 
rtost  abandoned.  His  visits  to  the  sick  in  the  hospitals  were  productive  of  great 
good.  Unwearied  in  his  exertions,  he  had  succeeded  in  establishing  a  system  <;f 
wholesome  religious  influences  when  the  great  financial  crash  in  San  Francisco 
interrupted  his  labors,  and  made  it  expedient  for  him  to  return  to  this  region  in 
order  to  obtain  resources  for  future  action.  His  book  was,  accordingly,  written 
in  the  interests  of  a  good  cause,  which  will  commend  it  to  the  friends  of  religious 
culture  in  California,  while  its  own  intrinsic  vivacity  and  naturalness  will  well 
reward  the  general  reader  for  its  perusal." — Harper's  N&w  Monthly  Magazine. 

For  sale  by  CARLTON  &  PORTER,  200  Mulberry-st.,  N.  Y. 


CARLTON  &  PORTER'S 

BOOK- LIST. 


GENERAL    CATALOGUE. 
Abbott,  Rev,  Benjamin,  Life  of, 

By  JOHN  FIRTH.     18mo.,  pp.  284.    Muslin,  40  cents. 

This  work  contains  the  experience  and  ministerial  labors  of  one  of  the  early  pioneer 

Methodist  preachers. 

Admonitory  Counsels  to  a  Methodist, 

By  Kev.  JOHN  BAKEWELL.      18mo.,  pp.  228.     Muslin, 
30  cents.  * 

This  is  a  highly  practical  work,  illustrating  the  peculiar  doctrines  and  economy  of 
Methodism. 

Advice  to  a  Young  Convert, 

By  Rev.  L.  M.  LEE.     12mo.,  pp.  400.    Muslin,  65  cents 

The  work  embraces  a  series  of  letters  on  Christian  duties  and  graces. 

Advices  to  Class-Members, 

Advices  to  one  who  meets  in  Class.  By  Rev.  ROBERT  NEWSTEAJD. 
72mo.,  pp.  72.  Price,  in  muslin,  gilt  edges,  16  cents ;  in  tucks, 
20  cents. 

Afflicted,  Companion  for  the, 

By  Rev.  THOMAS  H.  WALKER.     12mo.,  pp.  362,  65  cents. 
A  companion  for  the  afflicted,  designed  for  the  benefit  of  all  who  are  distressed, 
whether  in  body,  mind,  or  estate. 

Alleine's  Alarm  and  Baxters  Call, 

18mo.,  pp.  270.     Muslin,  35  cents. 

The  stirring  appeals  contained  in  these  books  have  made  them  more  effectual  in  (he 
conversion  of  sinners  than  perhaps  any  others  that  have  been  written. 


2  GENERAL  CATALOGUE. 

Analogy  of  Religion,  Natural  and  Revealed, 

By  Bishop  BUTLER,  with  an  Analysis  of  the  work  by  Rev.  B.  P 
TEFFT,  D.D.     12mo.,  pp.  341,  70  cents. 
This  book  shows  the  analogy  of  religion  to  the  constitution  and  course  of  nature. 

Analysis  of  Watson's  Institutes, 

By  Rev.  JOHN  M'CLINTOCK,  D.D.  Designed  for  the  use  of  students 
and  examining  committees.  ISmo.  pp.,  228,  45  cents. 

Anecdotes  for  the  Fireside, 

An  interesting  manual  for  families.  By  Rev.  DANIEL  SMITH 
With  an  Introduction  by  Rev.  E.  0.  HAVEN,  D.D.  18mo.,  pp.  448 
Muslin,  50  cents. 

Anecdotes  for  the  Young, 

By  Rev.  DANIEL  SMITH.     18mo.,  pp.  436,  50  cents. 

In  this  book  principles  are  illustrated  by  facts,  anecdotes,  sketches  of  personal  char 
acter,  and  history. 

Anecdotes  for  the  Ministry, 

By  Rev.  DANIEL  SMITH.  With  an  Introduction  by  Rev.  D.  W. 
CLARK,  D.D.  18mo.,  pp.  448,  50  cents. 

A  book  for  ministers  of  all  denominations,  the  illustrations  with  which  it  abounds 
being  derived  from  all  sources. 


Anecdotes  for  the  Ladies, 


By  Rev.  DANIEL  SMITH.     With  an  Introduction  by  Rev.  R.  S. 
FOSTER,  D.D.     18mo.,  pp.  448,  50  cents. 

A  book  full  of  interesting  sketches,  relating  to  all  the  relations  of  woman,  as  wife, 
mother,  and  daughter,  and  should  be  in  the  h«nds  of  all. 


Angels,  Nature  and  Ministry  of, 

By  Rev.  JAMES  RAWSON.    18mo.,  pp.  118,  25  cents. 

This  work  Is  designed  to  present,  in  a  connected  form,  the  interesting  facts  which 
have  been  revealed  in  reference  to  the  nature  and  ministry  of  Holy  Angels.  All 
that  is  certainly  known  respecting  the  nature,  names,  number,  age,  physical, 
intellectual,  and  moral  qualities  of  angels ;  their  beauty,  power,  wisdom,  purity, 
benevolence,  and  supreme  devotion  to  the  will  of  God,  may  be  seen  in  thia 
little  volume. 


GENERAL  CATALOGUE.  8 

Animal  Life,  Curiosities  of, 

Curiosities  of  Animal  Life,  as  developed  by  the  recent  Discoveries 
of  the  Microscope.  With  Illustrations  and  Index.  12mo., 
pp.  184,  50  cents. 

Annals  of  Christian  Martyrdom, 

By  the  Author  of  the  "  Lives  of  the  Popes."  12mo.,  pp,  406, 
80  cents. 

This  work  embraces  two  parts,  the  first  relating  to  the  martyrs  of  Pagan  Kome,  and 
the  second  to  the  martyrs  of  the  Middle  Ages.    A  valuable  and  interesting  work. 

Annals  of  the  Christian  Church, 

By  Mrs.  PARKER,     18mo.,  pp.  347,  35  cents. 

This  little  book  is  well  calculated  to  fortify  the  youthful  mind  against  the  iasiduoos 
wiles  and  lofty  pretensions  of  Jesuitism. 

Annals  of  the  Poor, 

Contains  the  Dairyman's  Daughter,  the  Young  Cottager,  the 
Negro  Servant,  Cottage  Conversations,  Visit  to  the  Infirmary, 
and  the  African  Widow.  By  Rev.  LEGH  RICHMOND.  18mo^ 
pp.  350,  40  cents. 

Apology  for  the  Bible, 

By  Bishop  WATSON.     18mo.,  pp.  220,  30  cents. 

Fhis  book  is  composed  of  a  series  of  letters  addressed  to  Thomas  Paine,  author  of  the 
"Age  of  Reason,"  and  contains  "Leslie's  Short  Method  with  the  Deists."  They 
are  both  admirable  books,  and  a  powerful  antidote  to  infidelity. 

An  Essay  on  Apostolical  Succession, 

Being  a  Defense  of  a  genuine  Protestant  Ministry  against  the 
Exclusive  and  Intolerant  Schemes  of  Papists  and  High  Church 
men,  and  supplying  a  Genuine  Antidote  to  Popery;  also  a 
Critique  on  the  Apology  for  Apostolical  Succession,  by  the  Hon. 
and  Rev.  A.  P.  PERCEVAL,  Chaplain  in  ordinary  to  the  Queen; 
and  a  Review  of  Dr.  W.  F.  HOOK'S  Sermon  on  "  Hear  the  Church/' 
preached  before  the  Queen  in  1838.  By  THOMAS  POWELL.  12moM 
pp.  354,  65  cents. 

Appeal  to  Matter  of  Fact, 

An  Appeal  to  Matter  of  Fact  and  Common  Sense ;  or,  a  Rational 
Demonstration  of  Man's  Corrupt  and  Lost  Estate ;  to  which  is 
added  an  Address  to  such  as  inquire,  What  must  we  do  to  be 
saved?  By  Rev,  J.  FLETCHER.  18mo.,  pp.  288,  40  cents. 


4  GENERAL  CATALOGUE. 

Arthur  in  America, 

Addresses  delivered  in  New-York  by  Rev.  WM.  ARTHUR,  of  Lon 
don.  With  an  Introductory  Address  by  Rev.  Dr.  ADAMS,  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  and  a  short  Biographical  Sketch,  and 
Portrait  of  Mr.  Arthur.  By  Rev.  W.  P.  STRICKLAND,  D.D.  12mo., 
55  cents. 


Asbury  and  his  Coadjutors, 


By  Professor  LARRABEE.     12mo.,  pp.  684,  2  vols.,  $1  20. 
An  interesting  work,  containing  sketches  of  Asbury,  Coke,  Lee,  M'Kendree,  Garrett- 
son,  Whatcoat,  Eoberts,  Emory,  and  others. 


Asbury's  Journals, 


3  vols.,  12mo.,  pp.  1519,  $3. 

To  those  who  wish  to  become  acquainted  with  the  dayly  experience  and  toils  of  this 
remarkable  pioneer  of  Methodism  these  books  are  invaluable. 

Athens, 

Its  Grandeur  and  Decay.    Illustrated.     12mo.,  pp.  166,  50  cents, 
This  book  treats  of  the  rise  of  Athens,  its  Architecture,  Sculpture,  Painting,  Domes 
tic  and  Social  State,  and  Mental  and  Moral  Character  of  its  Inhabitants. 

Almanac,  Methodist,    (1858.) 

12mo.,  pp.  72.    Price,  6  cents. 


GENERAL  CATALOGUE.  5 

Baccalaureate  Discourses, 

Comprising  Discourses  on  the  Relations  of  Christian  Principle 
to  Mental  Culture,  and  the  Resources  and  Duties  of  Christian 
Young  Men.  By  Rev.  S.  OLIN,  D.D.  18mo.,pp.  170.  Price,  35  cents. 

Baker  on  the  Discipline,    Revised  edition. 

A  Guide-Book  in  the  Administration  of  the  Discipline  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  By  BISHOP  BAKER.  12mo.,  pp.  253. 
Price,  60  cents. 

A  valuable  book  for  all  our  preachers,  in  relation  to  the  usage  of  the  Church  in  mat 
ters  of  administration. 

Baptism,  Christian, 

Christian  Baptism,  in  two  Parts.  Part  I.  Its  Subjects.  Part  II. 
Its  Mode,  Obligation,  Import,  and  Relative  Order.  By  Rev.  F. 
G.  HIBBAED,  D.D.  12mo.,  pp.  648.  Price,  $1. 

Baptism,  Christian, 

Christian  Baptism ;  its  Mode,  Obligation,  Import,  and  Relative 
Order.  By  Rev.  F.  G.  HIBBAED.  12mo.,  pp.  218.  Price, 
60  cents. 

Baptism,  Infant, 

A  Treatise  on  Infant  Baptism.  By  Rev.  F.  G.  HIBBAED,  D.D. 
12mo.,  pp.  328.  Price,  60  cents. 

Baptism^  Obligation,  Subjects,  and  Mode, 

An  Appeal  to  the  Candid  of  all  Denominations,  in  which  the 
Obligations,  Subjects,  and  Mode  of  Baptism  are  Discussed,  in 
answer  to  the  Rev.  W.  F.  Broaddus,  of  Virginia,  and  others,  with 
a  further  Appeal  in  answer  to  Mr.  Broaddus's  Letters.  By  Rev. 
H.  SLICEE.  Revised  edition.  18mo.,  pp.  262.  Price,  30  cents. 

Believers  Encouraged, 

Believers  Encouraged  to  Retain  their  First  Love.  Two  Letters 
on  Entire  Sanctification.  72mo.,  pp.  43.  Price,  gilt  edges, 
16  cents. 


6  GENERAL   CATALOGUE. 

Bibles  and  Testaments, 

Boyal  Quarto  Bibles. 

A  new  and  splendid  edition,  illustrated  with  twenty-five  beautiful  engravings,  and 
containing  the  Apocrypha,  a  Concordance,  Bible  Dictionary,  &c.  A  beautiful  gift- 
book.  Being  larger,  and  having  wider  margins  than  the  Quarto,  it  is  designed  also 

Morocco,  gilt  edges  $15  00 

Superior  extra  morocco,  $18;  beveled  edges 23  00 

Imperial  Quarto  Bibles.    (Just  Published.) 

This  edition  is  printed  from  a  much  larger  type  than  any  heretofore  published,  be- 
ing  bold-faced  English,  with  a  center  column  of  marginal  references.  The  paper  is 
superfine.  It  contains  the  text,  index  of  subjects,  family  record,  and  twenty-five 
superior  steel  engravings.  The  various  styles  of  binding  are  executed  in  the  very 
best  manner,  and  altogether  it  is  the  most  splendid  edition  ever  published  in  this 
country. 

These  Bibles  are  purchased  for  wedding- gifts,  as  well  as  for  holiday  occasions,  and 

they  are  most  certainly  appropriate  and  elegant  presents. 
Presentation  plates  are  prepared  and  put  on  in  gilt,  according  to  the  direction  of 

purchasers. 

Super  extra  morocco,  paneled  sides  and  beveled  edges.  $35  00 
Velvet,  gold  mountings,  extra 50  00 

Quarto  Family  Bibles. 

1.  Concordance,  Apocrypha,  Index. 

Sheep,  $3 ;  Roan,  $3  50 ;  Roan,  gilt 4  00 

2.  Concordance,  Apocrypha,  Index,  and  12  Engravings. 

Sheep,  $4;  Roan,  $4  50;  Roan,  gilt  edges 5  00 

Neat  calf,  $5  50;  gilt  back 6  60 

Imitation  morocco , 7  00 

SUPERFINE. 

3.  Concordance,  Apocrypha,  Index,  and  16  Engravings. 

Calf  extra,  $8  50;  gilt  edges 10  00 

Morocco  extra,  gilt  edges,  $12  00;  beveled  sides...     15  00 

Royal  Octavo  Bibles,  Fine  Paper. 

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Roan,  embossed 1  59 

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24mo.  Pearl  Testaments.  ****• 

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Pocket  Bibles. 
A  large  assortment  of  various  sizes  and  styles  of  binding. 


GENERAL   CATALOGUE.  7 

Bible  Index  and  Dictionary, 

A  Complete  Index  and  Concise  Dictionary  of  the  Holy  Bible :  in 
which  the  various  Persons,  Places,  and  Subjects  mentioned  in  it 
are  accurately  referred  to,  and  difficult  Words  briefly  explained : 
designed  to  facilitate  the  Study  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures.  To 
which  is  added,  a  Chronology  of  the  Holy  Bible,  or  an  Account 
of  the  most  Remarkable  Passages  in  the  Books  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments,  pointing  to  the  time  wherein  they  happened,  and  to 
the  Places  of  Scripture  wherein  they  are  recorded.  By  Rev.  JOHN 
BARR.  12mo.,  pp.  210.  Price,  45  cents. 

This  work  is  intended  not  only  to  assist  unlearned  readers  in  understanding  the  lan 
guage  of  the  Bible,  but  chiefly  in  readily  turning  to  the  places  where  every  topic 
of  information  comprised  in  it  occurs.  It  is  especially  valuable  to  Sunday-school 
teachers. 

Biblical  Literature, 

Illustrations  of  Biblical  Literature :  exhibiting  the  History  and 
Fate  of  the  Sacred  Writings  from  the  earliest  Period  to  the 
present  Century ;  including  Biographical  Notices  of  Translators 
and  other  Eminent  Biblical  Scholars.     By  Rev.  JAMES  TOWNLEY, 
D.D.     8vo.,  2  vols.,  pp.  1306.     Price,  $3  00.     Half  calf,  $3  50. 
dome  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  vast  diversity  of  matter  which  these  two  volumes 
contain,  when  one  fact  only  is  remembered — the  Index  fills  nearly  twenty-four 
pag«s  of  double  columns  in  a  small  type.    The  work  contains  several  engravings 
of  antique  languages,  elucidating  the  Mstorical  notices  with  which  they  are  con 
nected. 

The  whole  work  is  divided  into  three  parts,  of  which  we  present  merely  the  gen 
eral  summary : 

PAET  I.  From  the  giving  of  the  law  to  the  birth  of  Christ,  in  two  chapters. 
PAET  II.  From  the  birth  of  Christ  to  the  invention  of  the  art  of  printing,  in  thirteen 
chapters,  exhibiting  the  historical  details  in  progression  by  the  successive  centuries. 
PART  III.  From  the  invention  of  printing  until  the  present  time,  in  twelve  chapters. 
Dr.  Townley's  Illustrations  are  essential  to  every  good  library,  and  to  all  persons 
who  are  desirous  to  attain  an  adequate  and  a  correct  acquaintance  with  tfce  litera 
ture  and  the  learned  men  of  times  gone  by.— Christian  Intelligencer. 


Biblical  Literature, 


By  Rev.  W.  P.  STKICKLAND,  D.D.  12mo.,  pp.  40i.  Price,  80  cents. 
The  work  is  divided  into  nine  parts,  treating  severally  of  Biblical  Philology,  Biblical 
Criticism,  Biblical  Exegesis,  Biblical  Analysis,  Biblical  Archaeology,  Biblical  Eth 
nography,  Biblical  History,  Biblical  Chronology,  and  Biblical  Geography.  This 
enumeration  will  suffice  to  show  the  extent  of  the  range  of  topics  embraced  in 
this  volume.  Of  course  they  are  treated  summarily;  but  the  very  design  of  th« 
author  was  to  prepare  a  compendious  manual,  and  he  has  succeeded  excellently. — 
Methodist  Quarterly 


8  GENERAL    CATALOGUE. 

Bingham,  (Miss  M,  H,,)  Memoir  of, 

A  Memoir  of  Mary  Helen  Bingham,  who  died  in  the  Seventeenth 
Year  of  her  Age.     18mo.,  pp.  229.    Price,  30  cents. 
"Prayer  all  her  business:  all  her  pleasure  praise." 

This  young  lady  was  deeply  pious,  and  her  experience  cannot  fail  to  be  instructive 
to  those  who  peruse  it. 

Biographical  Sketches  of  Methodist  Ministers, 

By  Rev.  JOHN  M'CLINTOCK,  D.D.  8vo.,  pp.  370.  Price,  imitation 
morocco,  $3  00 ;  morocco,  $3  50 ;  morocco,  beveled  sides,  $5  00. 

This  splendid  book  contains  sketches  of  "Wesley,  M'Kendree,  Emory,  Eoberts,  Hed- 
ding,  Fletcher,  Garrettson,  Fisk,  Pickering,  Levings,  Olin,  and  Bunting,  and  a 
Sketch  of  the  Old  New-England  Conference,  and  is  most  superbly  illustrated. 

Bible  and  Slavery, 

The  Bible  and  Slavery :  in  which  the  Abrahamic  and  Mosaic 
Discipline  is  considered  in  Connection  with  the  most  Ancient 
Forms  of  Slavery;  and  the  Pauline  Code  on  Slavery,  as  related 
to  Roman  Slavery  and  the  Discipline  of  the  Apostolic  Churches. 
By  Rev.  CHARLES  ELLIOTT,  D.D.  12mo.,  pp.  354.  Price,  75  cents, 

Boys  and  Girls'  Illustrated  Bird  Book, 

By  JULIA  COLMAN.  Square  8vo.,  pp.  140.  Price,  70  cents ;  gilt 
edges,  85  cents. 

This  little  volume  contains  the  natural  history,  haunts,  and  habits  of  various  birda, 
such  as  the  Eagle,  Parrot,  Pelican,  etc.  It  is  in  the  narrative  and  conversational 
style,  well  spiced  with  incident.  The  illustrations  are  superb,  and  the  colored 
engravings  of  a  style  entirely  new  in  this  country. 

Boys  and  Girls'  Illustrated  Olio, 

Square  8vo.,  pp.  180.     One  Hundred  Illustrations.     Price,  70 
cents. 
An  interesting  work  for  children. 

Brand  of  Dominic, 

History  of  the  Inquisition.  By  Rev.  W.  H.  RULE.  12mo, 
pp.  392.  Price,  75  cents. 

Bridal  Greetings,  with  Marriage  Certificate, 

By  Rev.  D.  WISE.    24mo.,  pp.  160.    Price,  30  cents ;  silk,  45  cents. 

British  Poets,  Selections  from  the, 

Illustrated.    12mo.,  pp.  365.    Price,  $1  00;  gilt,  $1  25;  silk, 
$1  60 ;  morocco,  $2  00. 
A  beautiful  gift-book. 


GENERAL    CATALOGUE.  9 

Calvinistic  Controversy, 

Embracing  a  Sermon  on  Predestination  and  Election.     By  Rev. 

WILBUK  FISK,  D.  D.  12mo.,  pp.  273.  Price  50  cents. 
CONTENTS  :  Sermon  on  Predestination  and  Election — Eeply  to  the  Christian  Specta 
tor — Indefiniteness  of  Calvinism — Brief  Sketch  of  the  Past  Changes  and  Present 
State  of  Calvinism  in  this  Country — Predestination — Moral  Agency  and  Account 
ability — Moral  Agency,  as  affected  by  the  Fall  and  the  Subsequent  Provisions  of 
Grace — Objections  to  Gracious  Ability  answered — Regeneration. 

Caesar,  Life  of  Julius, 

ISmo.,  pp.  180.     Price,  30  cents. 

Camp-Meetings, 

Considered  with  reference  to  their  History,  Philosophy,  Import 
ance,  etc.  By  Rev.  J.  PORTER,  D.D.   2 4m o.,  pp.  86.   Price,  12  cents. 

Cartwright,  Peter,  Autobiography  of, 

Edited  by  W.  P.  STRICKLAND.     12mo,  pp.  525.     Price,  $1  00. 

Thia  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  autobiographies  of  the  age.    It  is  having  a 
most  rapid  and  extensive  sale. 

Central  Idea  of  Christianity, 

By  JESSE  T.  PECK,  D.D.     12mo.,  pp.  389.     Price,  $1  00. 

II  is  a  book  to  be  read,  learned,  and  inwardly  digested,  and  will  much  promote 
vigorous  »nd  healthful  piety  in  the  Church. — R&o,  Dr.  Durbin. 

Chart  of  Life, 

By  Rev.  JAMES  PORTER,  D.D.     12mo.,  pp.  259.     Price,  60  cents. 

The  design  of  this  book  is  to  indicate  the  dangers  and  securities  connected  with  the 
voyage  of  life,  all  which  are  accurately  and  admirably  described. 


Children,  Ministering : 


A  Story  showing  how  even  a  Child  may  be  as  a  Ministering 
Angel  of  Love  to  the  Poor  and  Sorrowful.  "  Large  16mo.,  pp. 
542.  Price,  90  cents.  Illustrated  edition,  gilt  edges,  $1  25; 
morocco,  gilt,  $2  00. 


Christ  and  Christianity: 


A  Vindication  of  the  Divine  Authority  of  the  Christian  Religion, 
grounded  on  the  Historical  Verity  of  the  Life  of  Christ.  By 
WILLIAM  L.  ALEXANDER,  D.D.  12mo.,  pp.  314.  Price,  70  cents. 


10  GENERAL    CATALOGUE. 

Christian  Church,  History  of  the, 

A  Concise  History  of  the  Christian  Church  from  its  First  Estab 
lishment  to  the  Present  Time;  containing  a  General  View  oi 
Missions,  and  exhibiting  the  State  of  Religion  in  Different  Parts 
of  the  World.  By  Rev.  MARTIN  RUTER,  D.D.  New  edition. 
8vo.,  pp.  446.  Price,  $1  50. 

Christian  Effort; 

Or,  Facts  and  Incidents  designed  to  Enforce  and  Illustrate 
the  Duty  of  Individual  Labor  for  the  Salvation  of  Souls.  By 
SARAH  BAKER.  18mo.,  pp.  271.  Price,  40  cents. 

Christian  Exertion  Explained  and  Enforced, 

Christian  Exertion ;  or,  the  Duty  of  Private  Members  of  the 
Church  of  Christ  to  Labor  for  the  Souls  of  Men,  explained  and 
enforced.  ISmo.,  pp.  160.  Price,  30  cents. 

The  doctrines  and  appeals  of  this  little  manual  will  come  home  to  the  heart  and  con 
science  of  every  true  lover  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  souls  for  which  he  shed  his 
precious  blood.  Let  every  member  of  the  Church  carefully  read  \l.—Metliodist 
(Quarterly  Review. 

Christian  Love; 

Or,  Charity  an  Essential  Element  of  True  Christian  Character. 
By  Rev.  DANIEL  WISE.  24mo.,  pp.  128.  Price,  25  cents. 

Christian's  Pattern; 

Or,  a  Treatise  on  the  Imitation  of  Christ.     By  Rev.  THOMAS  a 
KEMPIS.     Translated  by  JOHN  WESLEY.    24mo.,  pp.  196.    Price, 
20  cents. 
We  cannot  too  strongly  recommend  this  work  to  the  frequent  perusal  of  all  who 

are  desirous  of  cherishing  by  every  means  the  flame  of  piety  which  God  may 

have  kindled  in  their  hearts. 

Christian  Perfection, 

By  Rev.  J.  FLETCHER.     24mo.,  pp.  141.    Price,  20  cents. 
This  work  has  contributed  to  the  spiritual  profit  of  thousands.    The  author  first  de 
fines  Christian  Perfection,  then  addresses  imperfect  believers  who  cordially  em 
brace  the  doctrine,  and  concludes  with  an  address  to  perfect  Christians. 

Christian  Perfection,  Plain  Account  of, 

By  Rev.  JOHN  WESLEY.     24mo.,  pp.  174.     Price,  25  cents. 
This  work  needs  no  higher  recommendation  than  the  sale  of  more  than  twenty 
thousand  copies  from  this  establishment  within  the  last  twelve  years. 


GENERAL  CATALOGUE.  11 

Christian  Perfection,  Scripture  Doctrine  of, 

The  Scripture  Doctrine  of  Christian  Perfection  Stated  and  De 
fended,  with  a  Critical  and  Historical  Examination  of  the  Con 
troversy,  both  Ancient  and  Modern ;  also,  Practical  Illustrations 
and  Advices :  in  a  Series  of  Lectures.  A  new  and  improved 
edition.  By  Rev.  G.  PECK,  D.D.  12mo.,  pp.  475.  Price,  75  cents. 

Christian  Philosopher, 

The  Connection  of  Science  and  Philosophy  with  Religion.  By 
THOMAS  DICK,  LL.D.  Abridged.  18mo.,  pp.  265.  Price,  35  cents. 

Christian  Student, 

A  Memoir  of  Isaac  Jennison,  Jr.,  late  a  Student  of  the  Wesleyan 
University,  containing  his  Biography,  Diary,  and  Letters.     By 
Rev.  EDWARD  OTHEMAN.     18mo.,  pp.  271.     Price,  30  cents. 
A  good  book.    The  subject  of  this  memoir  was  an  ardently  pious  and  highly  promis 
ing  young  man,  whose  pious  breathings  and  struggles  are  worthy  of  imitation. 

Christian  Theology, 

By  Rev.  A  CLARKE,  D.D.,  LL.D.  Selected  from  his  published 
and  unpublished  Writings,  and  Systematically  arranged ;  with 
a  Life  of  the  Author,  by  SAMUEL  DUNN.  12mo.,  pp.  438.  Price, 
sheep,  75  cents. 

SUBJECTS:  The  Scriptures— God— The  Attributes  of  God— The  Trinity— Man- 
Christ — Repentance — Faith — Justification — Regeneration — The  Holy  Spirit— 
Entire  Sanctification— The  Moral  Law— Public  Worship— Prayer— Praise— The 
Christian  Church— Baptism— The  Lord's  Supper— Husband  and  Wife— Parents 
and  Children— Masters  and  Servants— Eulers  and  Subjects— Eich  and  Poor— Min 
isters  and  People— Good  and  Bad  Angels — Temptations — Afflictions— Providence 
—Apostasy— Death— Judgment— Heaven— Hell— General  Principles— Miscellane 
ous  Subjects. 

Christian's  Manual, 

A  Treatise  on  Christian  Perfection,  with  Directions  for  obtain 
ing  that  State.  Compiled  principally  from  the  Writings  of  Rev. 
John  Wesley.  By  Rev.  TIMOTHY  MEREITT.  24mo.,  pp.  152. 
Price,  20  cents. 

This  little  book  has  been  too  extensively  circulated  to  need  any  recommendation. 
The  subjects  treated  of  are  the  necessity  and  nature  of  justification;  Christian 
perfection;  directions  for  those  seeking  it;  the  most  common  difficulties  in  their 
way  considered  and  removed ;  evidences  and  marks  of  Christian  perfection ;  ad 
vice  to  those  who  profess  it,  with  reflections  chiefly  designed  for  their  use. 

Christianity  viewed  in  some  of  its  Leading  Aspects, 

By  Rev.  A.  L.  R.  FUOTE.     IGmo.,  pp.  182.     Price,  40  cents. 
This  is  an  English  publication  of  great  intrinsic  worth,  taking  views  of  Christian 
truth  which  are  eminently  practical. 

2 


12  GENERAL    CATALOGUE. 

Christianity  Tested  by  Eminent  Men; 

Being  brief  Sketches  of  Christian  Biography.  By  MERRITT 
CALDWELL,  A.M.  With  an  Introduction  by  Rev.  S.  M.  VAIL,  A.M. 
16mo.,  pp.  218.  Price,  40  cents. 

Church  Polity,  Essay  on, 

Comprising  an  Outline  of  the  Controversy  on  Ecclesiastical  Gov 
ernment,  and  a  Vindication  of  the  Ecclesiastical  System  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  By  Rev.  A.  STEVENS,  LL.D. 
12mo.,  pp.  206.  Price,  muslin,  60  cents. 

The  first  part  of  this  work  is  an  outline  of  the  controversy  on  Church  gpvernment 
in  general,  presenting  the  views  of  our  Church  on  the  subject,  and  the  authori 
ties  which  support  them.  The  second  contains  a  discussion  of  the  origin  of  our 
own  system,  both  of  economy  and  of  Episcopacy.  The  third  is  an  examination 
of  the  structure  of  our  system,  explaining  and  defending  its  chief  features,  such 
as  its  itinerancy,  its  episcopacy,  and  its  popular  checks. 

Church,  Responsibilities  of  the  M,  E, 

Present  State,  Prospects,  and  Responsibilities  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church ;  with  an  Appendix  of  Ecclesiastical  Statistics. 
By  Rev.  N.  BANGS,  D.D.     18mo.,  pp.  326.     Price,  45  cents. 
Probably  no  man  in  the  United  States  is  so  competent  to  discuss  the  special  subject 
embraced  in  this  volume  as  the  venerable,  and  pious,  and  eminently  laborious 
minister  whose  name  appears  upon  the  title-page ;  and  no  man  can  more  justly 
claim  that  his  warnings  shall  be  reverently  heeded,  and  his  counsels  affectionately 
received. 

City  of  Sin, 

The  City  of  Sin,  and  its  Capture  by  Immanuers  Army.  An 
Allegory.  By  Rev.  E.  F.  REMINGTON,  A.M.,  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church.  With  an  Introduction  by  Rev.  GEORGE  B. 
CHEEVER,  D.D.  12mo.,  pp.  336.  Price,  $1  00. 

Here  is  an  original  work.  The  author  has  had  the  courage  to  follow  in  the  track  of 
Bunyan,  and  he  has  done  so  with  a  steady,  vigorous  foot.  Dr.  Cheever  has  intro 
duced  his  volume  by  a  brilliant  preface ;  a  sufficient  endorsement.  There  is  no 
possiblity  of  giving  an  outline  of  such  a  work ;  suffice  it  to  say  that  the  dramatis 
personse  are  numerous  and  well  sustained ;  that  the  martial  idea  of  the  allegory 
is  maintained  with  much  spirit  and  brave  movement,  and  that  the  general  style  of 
the  performance  is  quite  up  to  its  main  idea. 

Clarke  (G,  ¥,)  on  the  Divinity  of  Christ. 

Christ  Crucified;   or,   a   Plain   Scriptural  Vindication  of  the 
Divinity  and  Redeeming  Acts  of  Christ.     With  a  Statement  and 
Refutation  of  the  Forms  of  Unitarianism  now  most  prevalent. 
By  GEORGE  W  CIARKE.    ]8mo.,  pp.  324.    Price,  muslin, 
45  cents. 


